


And when we run... we reminisce

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Angst, Angst Bela Talbot, Angst Dean Winchester, Angst Gabriel, Arguing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Exhaustion, F/M, Frustration, Hallucinations, Hell Hounds, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Gabriel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Gabriel, Romance, multiple timeframes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:26:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean doesn’t know what it is, why he needs these little connections so badly when he’s selfish and stupid and doesn’t know what he wants half of the time. It doesn’t really matter though because he goes to hell anyway, ends up coming back, tries to fix things with his brother, etc. etc. etc. and that archangel checking in on him every single second isn’t helping the temptation any.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Neglected Poker Face

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Seasons 3, 4 & 5\. This is an alternate take of the episode ‘On the Head of a Pin’ and after that, going on into Season 5 as well as other past events I added in that are set during Seasons 3 &4\. This has been on my computer for months now, and I was hesitant to upload it but I do really like it and I hope you guys find some enjoyment from it too.  
> Notes on this chapter: Set during ‘On the Head of a Pin’. I am really really excited to be writing this, maybe because it’s the first thing I’m writing in this writing program Scrivener, which is like a million times better than Word, but maybe it’s because I’m just thrilled to write anything involving my OTP. Hope you like this first chapter.   
> Song Featured: Bush’s ‘Mindchanger’

_~Think it’s strange, like really strained  
We’ll never run when we’ve got all these broken bones  
It’s so hard to let you go~_

_(Now)_

 

Sam took him home, even though he didn’t want to go as much as he hated being in that damn hospital room. Cas was unsurprisingly M.I.A and his brother still hyped up on demon blood, yes, Dean could tell that easily. Meanwhile he was weak, vulnerable and Sam being around didn’t bring him the certain comfort that he needed, didn’t make him want to go back to their piece of crap motel room and lay around doing nothing until they found another hunt or a way to stop the apocalypse from ever happening. Yeah, like that was gonna happen. 

Most distressing of all though? Gabe hadn’t come to see him since Alistair decided to play with him. Actually, he hadn’t seen the archangel for at least a few weeks now, maybe even a few months with how good he had kept track of the time. There was no sign of him, nothing, and as disappointed as he was and how stupid he felt for expecting Gabriel to come when even the slightest thing happened to him, all that was overruled by worry. 

The archangel wasn’t like this, if he had to go away for a long while, which wasn’t too often, he would make sure Dean knew and would give him one last perfect night before he would wake up the next morning to find his bed cold and vacant. 

And even then, Gabriel would pop in every couple days or so, no matter how busy he claimed he was, and smother him with kisses and talk with him for a little while. It was never like this and he had never felt such concern and loss as this, waking up in the hospital bed to find he was alone and dead tired and expecting to see him just pop out from behind a corner or something. 

Dean called for him, a few times when he had the strength enough to whisper his name or form a coherent thought but it was all so useless. He would just have to wait till he came to him, which hopefully wouldn’t be too long even though Dean had the feeling of dread in his gut that told him it might be longer than he wanted it to be. 

Sam snuck out as soon as he assumed Dean was asleep just a little after nightfall, leaving Dean to flip through the channels about a hundred times before crawling back into bed and burrowing himself deep under the covers. He was cold and tired and still in enough pain to hate it. 

And he still really, desperately missed Gabe. How he felt like he was the only thing that mattered when he dropped by and they could just sit and stare or talk or do whatever for hours and it was always perfect and never boring. This was why he was so broken. 

It wasn’t even about just getting back from hell or the lost connection with Sammy, he had found something with Gabe. Before he went to hell but even more so after. There were so many things left unsaid and so many actions never taken and the archangel had been just as willing as he was to talk and act and want. 

So where the hell was he?

 

“Hey.”

The voice is soft and gentle though it still brings him out of the deep sleep he was in, the deepest one he’s had in months and luckily for him, that means he doesn’t have to think about the archangel until morning. Well, didn’t have to till now. Despite how low and barely intelligible the word is, it still gives him cause to open his eyes and let them fall upon the disheveled wonder that is Gabriel. 

Finally. At last. 

He actually can’t help but gawk at him for a few moments because Gabriel just looks like he ran five miles and Dean tries to remember a time where he’s ever looked like that. It doesn’t come to mind no matter how hard he racks his brain. The thing about the archangel is that he’s always so flawless, or pretending to be anyway and putting up a damn good argument about it too. He’s in perfect condition every time Dean sees him, always grinning and joking around and it’s such a peace of mind and sense of relaxation that Dean doesn’t do much but melt into it heart and soul. 

Gabriel really has been up to something. 

He bends down closer to Dean and smiles, “You missed my grand entrance.” He holds up a bouquet of assorted flowers, some tulips and roses and whatever the hell else, they smell really good though, even from this distance. “Sauntering in with my flowers and the huge nervous grin of apology on my face. Couldn’t wait up for me huh, Deano?”

Yep, it’s true. No poker face in sight and this is truly a sight to see. Maybe he should call Sam and they can start to interrogate him. 

Dean just stares up at him, tries really hard not to smile because he’s incredibly pissed off right now, but fails miserably because he’s in actuality so happy and thrilled and desperate for some attention. For a second it almost doesn’t matter what Gabriel’s been up to for these past few weeks, for just a minute he can’t grasp onto the fact that he’s here, really wants to grasp onto it so they can exchange apologies, or rather Gabriel can, and they can move onto better things. Although he may really choose sleep now above all else considering the situation. 

All that is only for a second though because he looks back upon all the brutal nights where Gabriel _wasn’t_ there. Wasn’t anywhere in sight and it was _agonizing._

“Where the hell were you?” 

It’s a growl and the last thing he wants to come off as is some sort of feral animal. Dean can’t help it though, he wouldn’t do what the archangel had done in a heartbeat. It was cruel, heartless, a huge debt that would need to be paid. Sure, he’s glad he’s here, glad he finally knows he’s safe and sound, but he also needs to sleep and rest and just relax for one goddamn minute like the doctor and Sammy told him but he can’t, can’t because now that the worry is gone the anger is here, even more than before and he just doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. 

Gabriel sets the flowers down on the dresser and crawls into bed with the human, scoots close until he can breathe Dean in and relax and let himself realize that he’s back and staying this time. At least, he wants to stay this time. Dean doesn’t move, he’s too tired and uncaring too. Gabriel’s arms around him feel so nice and they’re something he’s wanted to give into for weeks but hasn’t had the option to. Dean scoots a little closer, knows he can rest now that his archangel’s here. 

“Busy.” It’s a stupid stupid answer but Gabriel doesn’t have anything better, not even the real reason. 

Gabriel’s voice is a whisper, his voice a sweet melody in the human’s ears and it’s too bad that the word has to enrage him even more and make him wonder about whether Gabriel even cares at all, even knew what it was like to wonder if you were going to die and if you would even have the chance to say goodbye to the one person who could always take all the pain away with a single look. 

“Busy doing what?”

“Trying not to think about you.” He buries his face deeper in Dean’s shoulder, rubs his hand along the soft skin there and kisses it gently. Gabriel pictures Dean’s perfect smile and knows he wouldn’t deserve to see it, not even if he begged for it. 

Dean sits up a little at that, wonders why the current look on Gabriel’s face is so haunted like he’s just seen a ghost, though that would never affect him, and clearly guilty of something that he really wants to find out.

“I waited for you,” he’s so comfortable right at this moment that he almost doesn’t want to speak a word. “Figured you would stop by to bring me some lousy hospital coffee or something after a while. Sam told me you wouldn’t show, just didn’t think he’d be right on that one.”

_He won’t be right anymore, Dean. I’ll make sure of that. I promise. Just because Sam thinks he can take care of you on his own and handle being on demon blood doesn’t mean I trust him enough or don’t get to take care of you either. There’s so much I want to say, Dean. So much I need to make you understand but I think being human makes you not want to understand a single thing and at the same time wanting to. I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, which is why I’m not saying it._

“I’m sorry,” the archangel abruptly says, trying not to let his words run together and trying desperately not to think that being here is a bad idea and exactly what he didn’t want not two days before. 

“I wanted to be there, just didn’t think it was a good idea.” Like you can say something like that to Dean Winchester, in another minute he’ll turn it around to ‘It’s okay, don’t worry about me. I was perfectly fine and didn’t need you to baby me. Sam was doing enough of that, thank you very much, fluffing my pillows every five minutes and giving me enough coffee and pain medication that I thought my head was gonna freaking explode.’ 

He knows Dean so well now and he loves that. 

Dean still doesn’t know him well enough though and he’s afraid. 

The human’s agitated face immediately dissolves into one of anger just like he was expecting it would. Dean doesn’t want it to because Gabriel looks so hurt and like he’s suffering or something but what about him? What about the waiting day in and day out for him to just stop by for five goddamn minutes and tell him he hopes he gets better or some bullshit like that? What about the…?

“Didn’t think it was a good idea for you maybe. Ever think of me?” He bites down on his tongue hard after that because he’s at the brink of exploding for so many different reasons but everything involving Gabriel, the one person who he can hate and love at the same time. Particularly can’t even begin to pick one of those things right now. 

“Dean,” it feels like a shot in the dark, that one little word because he can’t make his mouth move to add anymore words to accompany it. He loves Dean, so much but he can scarcely imagine what he thinks, what he took his actions to mean, what he must have felt simply because he didn’t show up when Dean needed him the most. 

He would have a lot of making up to do, if he was even going to stay at all. 

“I know you’re mad at me.” He hasn’t moved for one moment since accompanying Dean in the bed, is scared to because Dean could slip out of his hold both emotionally and physically and it’d be entirely his fault if that happened. He jumps every time Dean moves an inch now because he thinks of all that could still happen. 

“Gee,” Dean rolls over and gives him a spectacular, probably still bruised though, view of his back. “How long did it take you to figure that out?”

Gabriel sighs, surprisingly doesn’t force him to turn back over. Dean does after about a minute or two anyway, just cause he missed Gabriel and nothing he ever does will change the way he feels about him or about what they have. Gabriel never beats himself up like he is over this and in a fit of furious passion, Dean wants to smother him with kisses even though the way the archangel is looking down at him and the thick silence shows he wants to talk about _something._

_Can’t this wait? So tired and pissed and I want you, Gabe. Just not right now._

“I’m terrified sometimes, Dean.”

The archangel lays down a little more in bed but the human can feel how tense and nervous he is about opening up like this. He hardly ever opens up, neither of them do except when Gabriel forced him to after he got back from the pit because everything was eating away at him too much and he couldn’t deal with both that and Sam alone. 

Gabriel’s pushing had helped then and now he had to stop being an ass and do something. 

“Terrified of what?”

The archangel hasn’t been able to look him straight in the eye since he got here. It’s yet another thing that he hasn’t experienced before, makes him realize how much Gabriel does love him after all and how much he has changed. 

“Terrified of losing you.”

“Yeah, Gabe. You almost did.”

_Like that morning I woke up in the hospital and thought I was dead until I saw Sam downing a bag of demon blood and scrabbling to get up to ask me if I was okay. Like that very same night when I was alone and in pain and Sam was trying to make it better but I just pushed him away because I only wanted you to make it better._

“No,” he quickly says, “I knew you would be okay. That it would take you a while to heal and that maybe you shouldn’t have me around for it.”

Dean scoots closer even though he has a strange urge to push away. He’s glad he doesn’t though, “Why not? I wanted you there.” _Needed you there, you idiot._

Gabriel opens his mouth a couple times before he can finally get a decent word out, “I’m just so terrified of how I feel about you. I just…” he turns away, fingers the flower petals and wonders why he bought them after all. They look so sad and now that he’s out of the hospital they don’t matter and could never express to Dean just _how much_ he cares.   
Enough to give anything. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough.” Dean pulls his head further down, forces Gabriel to look at him, “Cause you are. If not now then soon, Gabe. I mean it. I’m gonna need a decent explanation, no more fucking around.”

Gabriel meets his eyes willingly, wants to now because Dean’s eyes are beautiful and so deep and Dean is so worth it. He pets his hair affectionately and kisses his human gently on the cheek, “You know I love you, right?”

_How could I even think about leaving him for a second? No matter how tangible that thought seemed all those times in the last month._

“I would hope so.”

“Dean…”

“Yeah yeah,” he snuggles into the archangel further, adores (like always) how soft and real he feels, like him not being here would be (should be) impossible even though he wasn’t for so long (too long) and he literally doesn’t want to get out of bed ever again because this is the only thing he wants. “I know I’m all yours, Gabe,” Dean smiles because he knows nothing else could be more true. 

“Sometimes I think we’d both just be better off if we went our separate ways and…”

“Don’t Gabriel.” This is exactly what he doesn’t want to hear the first moment that Gabriel comes back, doesn’t want to hear it because it’s painful and it can’t be true.   
_Gabriel can’t be seriously thinking these things, not after all we’ve been through. You think hell would’ve been the worst and it’s not. I guess this is my punishment for thinking the same things back then, for thinking I wasn’t good enough._ “Don’t put me through this, not tonight.” It’s a desperate plea, muffled by the pillow and at any other moment Gabriel would chuckle and ruffle his hair. He only does the latter and it’s affectionate but not in the way it normally is. This time it feels more hesitant and rough. 

“Okay,” the archangel, on a whim, grabs the human and hugs him tightly to his chest, let’s go a little when Dean groans softly and squirms around a little. “Sorry. You must be hurting still. I am too a little.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow, “You didn’t get mangled by a demon who tortured you for thirty years and left for dead in the hospital did you?”

“No,” Gabriel shakes his head, catching a brief glimpse of how much Dean had been put through. That was one reason he couldn’t come, among the many others, couldn’t dare look at the human when he was like that and be expected not to blame himself for every little thing. “Not as bad as that.”

_Although an angel did try to kill me and nearly succeeded, which is probably why my side hurts like Thor crushed it with his damn hammer, and a couple humans had the nerve to attempt to outsmart me. They just don’t know me like you do, Deano. They don’t know how freaking awesome I am. It’s too bad that I can’t see it right now._

“I’m sor…” He tries because he really does feel bad, really does love him more than he lets on sometimes. 

Dean’s arms let go of the pillow he’s been clutching and his body settles for just relaxing against Gabe, finding wanting him to be quite a good enough reason to butt in. “It’s fine. Just shut up and let me sleep. And we’ll talk about this in the morning, so you better be here.”

He’s pretty sure he’s staying now, being here with Dean is reason enough. 

 

He doesn’t know how many hours he spends looking down at Dean, thinking about all they’ve gone through, all that they could still have, build for themselves and he’d even let Sam tag along, like he always does anyway, if it meant he’d get to be with Dean always and have to face no consequences, have to experience no fears that come with loving someone too much that it’s not even understandable. 

Too bad that what he just said would be a perfect world and he hasn’t been able to find one yet. 

Cause it doesn’t exist. Never could. 

There isn’t a lot at stake, there never really was until now, when the only thing at stake happens to be a huge thing that he can’t bring himself to live without even though he tried, succeeded for about four weeks until he had to see the state of him and just had to give in even though he knew what it meant. 

He can’t keep on walking away from Dean, if he comes back, which he did and there was a piece of him that knew he would have, it would be impossible to leave because Dean is irresistible and stubborn and needy in a way that he will rarely let show. 

There’s something fascinating about watching Dean sleep, particularly now, where he’s sprawled in what looks like the most uncomfortable position but his body allows it to bring him closer to Gabriel. It’s so adorable and so unlike Dean that he sits there next to him, holding him, bewildered for many minutes before his eyes drift over all that Dean Winchester is, his fine features, delicate eyelashes, decadent lips meant to claim in a kiss and a muscular form that’s to die for, even drenched in sweat from when he’s dug up graves before drifting back into the motel and literally jumping on top of Gabriel like he hasn’t seen him in years. 

They’ve kinda been through that before though, so he knows the feeling. 

And the archangel’s just as excited to see him, ignoring looks from Sam that he doesn’t even take the time to interpret because he’s so centered on Dean, before heading into the room next door and going at it with all they’ve got. Then they stare and talk quietly for hours, Dean getting pissed off because both his brother and the archangel want him to open up about being down in the pit and Gabriel has the good and bad sense enough to push him and when he pushes back grabs Dean and doesn’t ask, demands that he say something no matter how much he doesn’t want to. 

How much it may hurt. 

It’s over now for the most part, but they’ll get that night every once in a while that almost makes it feel like the old days, the fear of hell and Sam trying so hard but it didn’t add up to anything and Ruby and Bela. Bela. The only person back then who could truly connect and who cared enough so it mattered greatly, as much as Dean needed to deny it for himself. 

Gabriel remembers jealousy, remembers wanting Dean more than he’s ever wanted anyone. 

Reminisces upon what he was willing to do. 

Love. Be loved. Kill. Be killed. 

Fight. Die. Remember every patch of Dean’s skin miraculously sewn back together by Castiel, all for him to claim and touch and obsess over in his daydreams. He remembers the all too familiar burning sensation that was enough to set every inch of his grace on edge and what it felt like to be looked upon by Dean in the same way, equivalent to being doused in flames and resurrected from the ashes. Gabriel brushes Dean’s hair back, he won’t be bothered by hell or Alistair tonight, or plaguing thoughts of failing his brother when really Sam is still in there somewhere, the geeky kid brother that he used to be to Dean. 

He’ll be here for it all because he wants to be. Every step Dean takes now just like he promised himself when the human came back from the pit. 

He’ll be that ever constant reminder that someone out there loves Dean Winchester and isn’t afraid to show it.


	2. Girl with the Killer Smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during Season 3 and ‘On the Head of a Pin’. I absolutely love Dean/Bela, not as much as Dean/Gabe though, and I’m thrilled to be writing them again. The (Nows’) are basically going to be the latter episode and beyond and the (Thens’) at anytime before that episode.  
> Song Featured: Ashes Divide’s ‘Forever Can Be’

_~Forever can be  
Something to believe in  
Wish this was one of those times~_

_(Then)_

 

Bela’s always had a way with words. 

Half the time Dean wishes he could just grab her and choke her till her heart stops beating and he can hear it stop beating, make her mouth stop forever so he doesn’t have to hear another word even though he loves listening to her speak. The way the words roll across her tongue and slip out of her mouth so discreetly sets Dean on edge, brushing her hair off her forehead and away from her cheeks almost absentmindedly. 

It’s times like these where Dean wonders if Bela knows just how drop dead gorgeous she is and not even just that. 

If she could hear herself when she talks, see herself when she struts into the room and Dean knows better, knows a helluva lot better than to give into her but he still does, trust her and fall for her perfect little tricks every time. The way she holds her own makes Dean only want her more, although, he isn’t exactly sure what he wants from her. 

Maybe just one night, they can get everything out of their systems and maybe he can learn a little about the mystery that is Bela Talbot, what her history is and how she got to be so tough and easygoing and act all the time like she owns the world when all Dean wants to see is her break down, in front of him, admit that nothing has been a piece of cake and she’s tired, admits she’s lonely and vulnerable and has no ounce of self confidence within her. Get Dean to tell her the same in a fit of angry rage that he’s figured her all out and she hates him for it. 

But her doing that would be like him doing that. 

Not gonna happen. 

So now he’ll just settle for her dropping by annoyingly and unexpectedly, swinging a new potential case in front of their noses and claiming she’s deep undercover, merely there to help them catch a killer, a monster though all she really wants is a rare artifact that she can sell on the black market for more money than either of the Winchester boys have ever seen. So why? Why do they fall for it every time?

Because hello, this is Bela freaking Talbot and she always gets her way. 

Dean gets the feeling he falls for these types of people, the type that never show any weakness, pain, disappointment, isolation. Although what does he have reason to feel lonely about? He’s got Sammy after all. Though he still feels it, deep down inside and everyone knows it but the only people who don’t yank it out of him for the entire world to see are people like Bela. People who go through those same issues day to day, hope a moment won’t come where they don’t know where they are, or who they are anymore and thereby gives themselves away for what they really are: the pathetic people riddled with bullet holes filled to the brim with self-denial and suppression. 

Maybe that’s why he seriously considered her offer to have angry sex in the first place. Because he hates himself sometimes and he especially hates Bela, hates the way she can get him to do anything, fall hard and fast and in the end be left on the sidelines awestruck but trying not to display it to a clearly pleased Bela. He knows one day it’ll go too far, that one day she’ll be gone and he might be the cause of it. 

That’s another reason why he’s not expecting to get any sleep until hell comes rushing up on him. 

Right now, he’ll just settle down and enjoy the late afternoon sitting on his baby and sharing a beer with his brother, his whole world in one snapshot of his life. He’s got four months left and he doesn’t want to waste it thinking about the past, about those he’s lost and those he wishes were still here. He’ll focus on the present moment, with Sam going behind his back trying to find some way to save him (like Dean didn’t know that) and Bela always finding some excuse to stop by and say ‘I’ve got a proposition for you, boys.’

Right at this moment, the water droplets running down his cracked knuckles and onto his jeans, Sam watching him out of the corner of his eye as if he’s afraid the hell hounds will take him any minute, he won’t think of angel wings or lollipops or his dad or anything else. 

Later, he’ll call Bela and do whatever the hell he feels like. After all, he’s only got sixteen weeks left to live. 

 

It’s when the clock starts ticking down that he realizes how much of a dick he’s being. It’s too bad that he doesn’t realize it until the six month mark, realize action should have been taken ages ago that is. 

He does it the wrong way though, with the whole Mystery Spot thing, which he thought was gonna work out better than he had planned but it didn’t. It only did the opposite of what he wanted, and that was to push Dean away even further. Now he only had several months left and if it wasn’t a tragic disaster two months ago it sure was now in Gabriel’s eyes. Because now he wanted Dean more than ever before, scolded himself for putting it off for this long and procrastinating going to him when the deal was formed, when the human’s fate was sealed. 

Scared and stupid shouldn’t have been options, not when Dean needed him and saying the opposite was a complete lie even if he did have substantial reasons back then, like that Dean would get even more depressed because he wouldn’t be able to stay with him after the same inevitable startling revelation from the both of them. He’d take care of Sam though, he promised that to Dean around the first time they met, when they both took a liking to one another, _a huge liking,_ but considered it embarrassing and futile to admit it because the eldest Winchester had to fake kill him for his brother’s benefit and what good was having something between them gonna do anyway?

Except make them both so happy that they’d be on each other every chance they could get. 

Except give Dean his self-confidence back and something to live for, someone to be with whenever he wanted to be. 

The notion that they could never be didn’t stop the archangel from stopping by every once in a while though, until a few months before the whole ‘chosen kids, you’re the one I’m rooting for, Sammy’ crap. He didn’t know what to say to Dean when all that was going on, just thought it was better to keep out of his way. 

And now Dean had lived some of his last months without him, the majority of them actually, and nothing could have hit him in the face more harshly and at the absolute wrong time. 

“What’s wrong?”

The goddess turns on her side from her previous position sprawled out on her back, her arm is still lying limply on Loki’s naked chest, rubbing the back of her hand every once in a while along the smooth surface, her eyes just aren’t trained on the ceiling anymore. Usually, Kali leaves Loki to his own thoughts and memories after they hook up and spend a long romantic night together, fully centered in reality for so long that she can hardly bear it, knows Loki has a hard time of it too. Still they do it though, less and less now and growing even more distant from one another but the god still enjoys making her feel special even though she’s really not the one he wants to pamper and prod. 

She sighs, loudly, glances up at Loki’s honey eyes which are looking at her but aren’t _really_ looking at her. 

“Never mind, you don’t have to tell me. It’s the boy. The human.” The way she says it makes Gabriel want to grab her and shake her until her eyes are wide and pleading for forgiveness. It wouldn’t work with Kali though, never has.

“Dean,” he growls. “His name is Dean.”

“Such a trivial name,” she scoots closer to Gabriel, who just left the warm confines of the bed to sit at the edge of it and gaze out the window even though all he sees is darkness.  
That’s all he wants to see anyway. He saves all his best moments to share with Dean, or at least, he used to anyway. 

“It’s not like it means anything. It’s not like he means anything.” It’s a lie coming straight from her mouth and she hates telling lies. She’s only telling it because she wants him to believe it and at the same time hopes that he never does. Maybe Loki is a better person hanging around Dean every once in a while, maybe he needs companionship just as much as she needs more freedom. 

It’s the strangest thing really, because she should want Loki all to herself and apparently she doesn’t. Apparently, she’s willing to share a little. And that’s not like her at all. 

Gabriel turns away because Kali keeps on scooting closer and is getting a better view of his face by the second. She’s no fool, Kali knows what he thinks about when they’re lying in bed together, when they meet up and sneak off to lavish rooms of their own creation, stripping each others clothes off even if they don’t need to because they like physical sensations and there are some things that being a god will never satisfy. 

Kali still doesn’t know who he is, _what he is_ specifically. He’s surprised she hasn’t figured it out by now and is so glad that she hasn’t. Gabriel doesn’t think he’ll be able to reveal something as huge as that, not even to Dean, because then it would just ruin everything, the two of them would never look at him the same way again and who’d be to blame for that?

“But he does.” She speaks this with a finality that is surprising even to her, slips out of bed smoothly and glides the silk bathrobe along her shoulders, tying it at her waist before going into the bathroom to clean up and fix her hair. “There’s something in that boy that will always lead you to him. Like a moth drawn to the flame but pulled back endlessly by so many distractions. One of them being me.” She smiles a little before softly shutting the door behind her. 

The night’s over and she’s pretty passive towards that fact at the moment. Will let Loki stay if he wishes to but couldn’t care if he didn’t.

When Kali opens the door not eight minutes later… he’s gone and she doesn’t know how she feels about that. 

 

_(Now)_

 

When Sam sneaks back into the room, Gabriel feels annoyed and pissed for only a minute before he realizes that he stopped feeling those emotions around the youngest Winchester a little while ago, primarily for Dean. Yeah, he wishes that Sam would stop drinking demon blood and rekindle all that he once had with his brother, but he also just saved both Dean’s ass and Castiel’s by accepting Ruby’s offer, and that’s not something for him to easily overlook when Dean’s top priority. 

Dean doesn’t even stir when Sam accidentally closes the door a little louder than intended, he’s completely out of it and for once the archangel is happy for that.

As soon as the youngest shrugs his coat off and places it on the back of one of the chairs, he crosses the what seems to be vast expanse separating him from the two. Gabriel almost wants to pretend that he’s sleeping but then again, Sam must know that archangels aren’t in need of sleep and it’s also pretty stupid to ignore him. He turns away, gives Sam a suspicious look but he doesn’t even seem to notice. The archangel can smell the demon blood on him so thickly and as much as he’s been trying to shut it out of his mind, it’s impossible tonight, so strong that his grace thumps furiously in his vessel’s chest. 

“Hey.” He brushes his hair back from his forehead, his eyes falling on his brother’s prone form, head resting against Gabriel’s side, “How is he?”

Gabriel stares, wonders what he should say or if he should say anything at all, because he so desperately wants to tell a lie now but knows Sam could see right through it because he knows his brother so well. He just ends up shrugging and sitting up further, giving Dean more of the covers because he’s feeling generous tonight. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he sits at the edge of his own bed, slips his boots off and looks at Gabriel just as suspiciously as Gabriel stares at him. He’s so close that the archangel can taste the blood, wonders what Dean would say if he were awake right now and if he would put up an argument, if it would even do any good cause it doesn’t seem like it has before. Sam Winchester is addicted and one could say out of touch with reality. He just can’t see it, can’t see how much Dean wants him back. 

You’d think life would be peachy after coming back from hell. Being back at home, even if all that is, is a car and a lone brother. Think again. 

“Same here,” the archangel says dryly, lays down because he doesn’t want to look at him anymore, would rather look at the cracked ceiling and think of a more simple world. A simpler life for Dean, who deserves it more than anyone else out there. 

The Winchester stretches out too, but doesn’t tear his eyes away from him or his brother. “You should have been there.”

“I don’t answer to you, Sam.” _It’s true, I don’t answer to anyone. I still should have been there though. He is right about that. Unfortunately._

“He was pretty broken up about you not being there, Gabriel. He didn’t want anything to do with me.” He still tries to get through to him and the archangel likes him a little bit better for that, not that what he’s saying is any of his business though.

“And I’m sure you know why.” He can’t help but let that slip out of his mouth, all the things he’s felt about Sam have been boiling in him since day one, not even when Dean came back but before that. And he’s given him a piece of his mind before but nothing about any of what’s been going on lately. 

Sam’s glare is immediate, his anger roiling within him as his eyes now fully center on Gabriel, “You know, believe it or not Dean wouldn’t be in that bed with you right now if…”  
“I know, Sam. I’m not an idiot, I realize that.”

“Then lay off me, would ya?” He slams down into the bed, places his arms behind his head and closes his eyes, not that the archangel is paying much attention. “I’m tired and I’m sure you don’t want to be waking him up.”

Gabriel sighs, turns away from Sam to look at Dean, _his Dean,_ oblivious and dead to the world at the archangel’s intense staring. Sometimes, he wishes he could actually get sleep because as beautiful as Dean is, he’s pretty tired and wanting a break as much as the two humans in the room do. Sam’s voice must break through the thick as honey silence about an hour later. 

“Gabriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Do me a favor and make sure he takes his pills and eats something in the morning, kay?”

Gabriel only settles down next to Dean and nods in the darkness just after Sam Winchester turns out the light. He suddenly doesn’t want to stay because he doesn’t want to get into the space between the two Winchester brothers, even though he’s been there for a while already and has failed to realize it. He does it though, for Dean, and it’s hard not to do it because it’s kinda hard to imagine being anywhere else.

 

_(Then)_

 

Bela giggles when Dean accidentally falls off the bed while they’re playing around a little. Dean’s feeling great, getting something that he wants, _needs actually,_ and not feeling guilty yet because being with Bela means being so carefree and forgetting about Sam for just that one little moment in time. 

He isn’t too happy when he takes a tumble off the bed though, hitting the wood flooring hard and all the girl does is laugh and give him one of her killer smiles. 

“This funny to you or something?” He looks up at her from his current position, flat on his back on the floor. Bela stares down at him, smiling in that perfect way of hers and holding out a hand for him to take. 

“If I didn’t know any better, Dean, I’d think you were wanting to escape.”

“You giving me reason to?”

Bela just shrugs, urges him with her gaze to take her hand but Dean, hating to show vulnerability and unfortunately is now, trusts himself to get back up on his feet. He doesn’t go back to the bed straight away, doesn’t put his shirt back on either, which is actually how far they’ve gotten, _not far at all,_ and instead lets his attention wander from her to the window. He’s been looking outside windows a lot lately, Sam’s remarked on it a few times and that’s when he finally started to notice it for himself. It shouldn’t matter, hell hounds aren’t supposed to be visible to the human eye. Somehow it matters to him though, thinks he’ll be able to catch a glimpse of something or sense something before everything starts crashing down around him. 

“Relax Winchester. They’re not coming yet.”

He told her about half a month back, she acted like she already knew even though there was no way she could have. Sam wouldn’t have just given information like that away to anyone. It was a secret between the two of them, or had been anyway. Dean honestly doesn’t know if Gabe knows yet, he hasn’t seen him since before he made the deal and even if he had caught wind of it, it sure didn’t seem to faze him for a second. Then again, Dean’s not sure he would tell him about it anyway, some things are just better left hidden. 

“Have you seen one before?”

She looks at him strangely, which is completely understandable but also in a way that’s foreign to him, “Uh, no. How would I have?”

Dean breaks out of his trance, vows not to look out the window for the remainder of the night, to just spend it with Bela like he came here primarily to do. Just to let go for one night, lose himself in someone he chooses and not have to worry about putting his guards back up so quickly cause hers will no doubt be down too. He shrugs, sits back on the bed and waits for her patiently. It doesn’t take long for her to follow his lead. 

“Jus’ wonderin’.”

“You’re scared aren’t you?” She places a hand on his shoulder, unsure, her fingernails lightly scratching its smooth surface as she looks up at him innocently, beautifully. At one time, not too very long ago, Dean would’ve considered it a dangerous move but now, it’s more than welcome even if it is strange and probably means something more than he wants it to mean. 

“Sure. Why not?” He can’t really look at her, as much as he may want to. 

“You can afford to be scared, Dean. Hell, anyone would be. I would be.” _I am, so terrified for both him and me. But it’s different because I can’t afford to be, can’t tell him or show him how truly afraid I am because it’s just not me. He doesn’t need to know that much about me, what I’ve done and what’s going to happen to me and he’ll know it too, soon enough because I go before he does._

_I go before him._

_And he doesn’t know it._

Bela’s someone that Dean craves to believe in, a comforting and steady presence that will be there when he expects her to be, leave when all of it seems to be too much for his already cracked skull to handle. Dean’s still not an idiot though, knows that Bela isn’t a doll, can’t be expected to do anything, let alone stay and that’s why he doesn’t understand why he has so much hope for her, for the both of them. For all these little moments where they laugh and curse and open up when they can’t keep the floodgates closed anymore. They lead to something important in his life. 

Sam’s been the most important thing for so long and he always, _always will be._ These are _his_ last weeks though, ones that he can’t only share with his brother no matter how painful it is to admit that. He needs Bela, her beauty and skill, her snark and completely uncalled for giggles, _her_ attention, gaze fixed entirely on him, as if he’s the only worthwhile thing in the world for her and when he’s gone, _when he’s gone_ everything will just amount to nothing. 

Dean’s been selfless for all these years and now things have to change. This one last act for his brother will lead to some good things before the cold dirt from the ground gets thrown over his vacant, forever staring eyes and limp, eternally still body. 

_And Gabe will never know what happened to me, only Bela and Sam and Bobby, the three constants in my life and the three people I wish I could always have around me. It doesn’t matter how much Bela doesn’t tell me because there’s so much to love in her, it only matters that Gabriel might remember me someday and come try to find me and I won’t be there, I’ll be rotting in the ground and he’ll just dig me out and hold me and tell me that he’s sorry for being such an idiot and forgetting. I won’t be able to hear though, I’ll just always wonder, hope that maybe he’ll find the reason to look for me. And I won’t be able to feel his strong arms surrounding me, will always strive to remember what it feels like._

_No... Sam has to bury me. Has to..._

_Hell will just erase everything, maybe even him._

“We gonna lay around all night or are we gonna do something?”

Dean looks up at her, a single sign that marks his full attention on her for the rest of the night and even the next morning. If he could dream of her he would, dream of her gorgeous body tanning in the sun next to his own, her soft, nimble fingers rubbing suntan lotion over his back and shoulders, massaging it in as she slips on a pair of sunglasses and kisses him greedily, lust pouring off her skin and onto his in the same manner as sweat. She would be perfect and he couldn’t imagine living life without her.

“Yeah...”

_And Gabe is on top of me, planting unpredictable kisses in my hair before he moves down to my cheeks, sunburned but he kisses them with gentleness, the intensity of it making my mouth go dry. His candy coated lips move to my neck, tongue flickering out of the depths to lick across the surface, my skin a vibrant, burning red complete with flaking skin but it doesn’t matter. Gabe will always be here, letting me lay on top of him when the sun and sand burns my back because we forgot to bring towels and Gabriel probably planned that all along. His gaze is hungry, so hungry and it terrifies me for a second before I remember that all his love is for my happiness. He gives me reason to forget all else, forget the irresistible Bela Talbot, lets Sam stick around out of the goodness of his heart when really he just wants to make him jealous anyway._

_That damn archangel could never forget me. Maybe..._

He makes room for Bela as she climbs on top of him, starts kissing him just like in the imagined dream that will never occur because his subconscious focuses on what he loves and hates most: Gabriel and leaving Sam. The latter will be painful enough, leaving Sam behind for him to look forward to nothing, giving him the punishment of watching his big brother die before his very eyes and there would be nothing he could do to stop it. There would be no reaper to attempt to negotiate with, no Dad or Layla to pray for him, no demon to help them fight the deal, reverse it. If Sam touched it with a ten foot pole he would die, and that would be if Dean didn’t kill him for his stupidity first. Sam would just be alone and that’s almost as painful as dying to let him live. He knows he’s selfish and it doesn’t matter, won’t ever matter because Sammy will be safe. 

Alive. 

He won’t have to worry about any of that again though, he’ll be gone soon and Sam will be living a couple more decades, maybe even more if he got out of the hunting business and lived a quiet, safe, apple pie life with their favorite older hunter and father figure, Bobby. He would miss him too, would always feel like they never got enough time. 

The former will be just as painful. The archangel will tell him he has to go, that it isn’t meant to be, that all those little things they shared were just that, little flings when they were bored, restless, wanting an hour long connection. Dean will move on, to hell, to shittier and shittier things. He will push aside his love for Gabriel a gigantic step every day, the vision of him will dissipate while in hell. The demons will make him forget. 

He’s with Bela now and nothing else matters. Dean kisses her, smiles enthusiastically and flips her over, hears her laugh in joy as he begins to strip her down. Her hands wrap around his neck and he lets them, bends down so their lips can meet in one perfect embrace. He dives deep down inside her and doesn’t pull out for a century. 

He’s with Bela now... not Gabe.


	3. Sharing & Not Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during ‘Tall Tales’, Season 3 & ‘On the Head of a Pin’  
> Song Featured: Metric’s ‘Help I’m Alive’

_~I get whatever I need  
While my blood’s still flowing and my heart’s still  
Beating like a hammer~_

_(Now)_

 

The sun is pretty much blinding his eyes but he thinks he can live with it, the way the faded red curtains are completely drawn back to reveal the early morning, the sky erupting in vivid blue and no storm clouds in sight like there have been the last few days, no sound of thunder that he’s been woken up by. It’s a brand new day, that’s what Dean tells himself even though he knows it’ll be another lousy day, just like they all are. More pain and misery and blood being spilled that shouldn’t even be spilled in the first place. He will look at Sam and see a demon within him, his eyes blazing black as fiercely and unforgivably as storm clouds encroaching upon a vulnerable town once bathed in ebony light. 

This is what makes Dean shiver, feel so weakened and utterly vulnerable under his brother’s sometimes frighteningly cold gaze even though he shouldn’t feel like that at all. He wants him to leave Ruby, she’s the only thing other than Alistair that his dreams focus on incessantly, and in a lot of ways she can be worse because it’s Sam she’s corrupting, overcrowding with her dark, demonic essence and her eyes swallowing him up whole, spitting him back out as something tainted and handing him over for Dean to deal with. 

Well, he doesn’t want to have the face the consequences of this and he’s willing to do anything to ensure that it won’t stay this way forever. 

If he kills Lilith, _when_ he kills Lilith then all will be fine again. Ruby will leave and never come back or he’ll gank her himself, he’ll let that blade descend upon her as if its vindictive nature were naturally steered to all the horror, rage and emptiness she’s caused within Dean, all she’s done to Sam and he’ll revel in the glory of letting it plunge into her chest and retrieve her rotten heart. He’ll take every piece of her so that by the time he’s done there will be nothing left except a completely empty shell of something he can barely remember. 

But he tries not to think about this too much, dreaming all these things is enough for him and he’s been trying not to let it all weigh too heavily on him. Dean doesn’t want to end up back in the hospital, doesn’t want to take his eyes off of Sam for another second for the fear that he’ll do something that the real Sam would never do. It’ll never be as simple as killing Ruby and he knows this, there will always be Lilith and Alistair, the latter haunting him until the end of eternity because that was something Sam or Cas could never take away and they knew it too. 

It’ll never be simple. Something will always go wrong, there will always be something to kill, to stop, to snuff out into oblivion. 

More than anything else, when he’s not dreaming or daydreaming he watches Sam like a hawk, the way he responds to him and the nights he sneaks out like it’s all some big secret or something. What’s good is that he can still see his brother through anything and everything, knows that the connection he fought so hard to maintain, died to keep alive with Sam is still being reciprocated on the other side. 

It’s also not good though because it’s like Sam is being held hostage and Dean isn’t doing enough to help him. Isn’t powerful enough to stop it. 

Yet every time either one of them turn around it’s always Dean who needs the help. 

Pretty fucked up, huh?

His eyes tear away from the windows on instinct, he almost doesn’t want to move because if he gets up he won’t know what to do, doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to move.  
The room is hot, not unbearably so because he can still feel the slightest chill hinting at vacancy, that he’s alone and it feels so different from last night because even in sleep he felt such at peace, like everyone who loved him and cared about him was surrounding him with their warmth and gentle eyes. 

“You gonna lie in bed all day or come out and share it with me?”

He starts, completely surprised upon discovering that he isn’t quite alone after all. The voice almost sounds like Bela’s for a moment before he remembers it’s not because she’s dead. And she always will be because you can’t change or undo some things, some things just stay fucked up and what’s worse is that he never even got to see her in hell, even if seeing her would have been heartbreaking and beyond wrong, it still would have really been good to see a familiar face. Things didn’t end good between them, but Bela will always mean something to Dean because of all the little things she gave to him when time was running out fast and he could barely breathe some nights. 

At the time she was an alternative to the one person he wanted more than anything, but he guesses deep down that it was always something more than that, a deeper connection and a beautiful human worth sharing a small part of his life with. No matter all the bad things she had done, no matter how much of a thief or a bitch or a completely agonizing mystery she was sometimes. She still had that special something. 

Dean looks up and sees Gabriel, the last person he was actually expecting to see, figures he must have just showed up considering how alone he felt not even a minute before.  
“Gabe?”

His mouth curves upward in a little smile and he leans down, smiles wider at the look of surprise on the human’s face and the way he discreetly leans forward to be nearer to the edge of the bed and therefore, nearer to the archangel who he’s been away from more than he’s been with. “It’s a brand new day, Dean. Don’t be afraid to face it, I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

And then everything goes blank for a minute, it’s almost like he goes blind or that everything goes white around him and the only thing that can break him out of it is one voice, one oh so familiar voice and two words that he’s heard over and over his entire life, in different yet beautiful tones of voice. 

“Dean? Dean!” 

He blinks and immediately the blankness dissolves, revealing the small room once more with the sun shedding its light everywhere it can possibly reach and the voice inches away from his ear, accompanied by a steady hand on his shoulder, grounding him. Gabe is immediately replaced by Sam, panic crowding his features for a moment until his brother blinks again, looks behind him and around the room before focusing on Sam. Dean doesn’t know what to call all of this except that he must have still been dreaming because that’s exactly what it feels like now, that Gabriel was never here at all, maybe not even last night and now that he thinks about it, he probably wasn’t here last night because he really can’t shake the unnatural light and underlying sense of horror and misery. 

 

He clears his throat and glances up at Sam with almost pleading eyes, “Was he?”

Sam backs off a little upon realizing that his brother’s okay now, “Was who?”

“Gabe.”

“You were pretty out of it a minute ago, Dean,” he admits. “There was no one here. I just got back from picking us up some breakfast cause you need to eat something.”

Dean completely ignores the last line because he can’t even think about stuffing shit in his mouth right now, let alone interpreting what Sam’s words mean which will inevitably leave him in the process of racking his brain to find out how many nights he’s _really_ been out of that dreaded, antiseptic laden, horrifying white and claustrophobic room. It’s a nightmare he doesn’t want to relive. “What about last night?”

Sam almost wants to say no because he hates to see the look of disappointment on his face when Gabriel leaves. Maybe it would have just been better if he didn’t come back at all so Dean could get past the grieving stage and start moving on to better things. He won’t lie though, he’s lied enough to his brother ever since he came back and he hasn’t deserved any of it, no matter his reactions on the things he’s admitted. 

“Yeah, he was, wasn’t here when I woke up though. Listen Dean,” he places a hand on his brother’s shoulder but it feels cold and completely devoid of feeling and more than anything Dean wants to shove it away, not only to deny comfort that he rarely excepts but this, this feeling that Sam is someone else entirely and he’s the only one to blame yet can’t seem to do anything about it because it’s like he’s stuck, in limbo or something and can’t even get himself to move to shrink away from the sun that’s now burning a hole into his side. Sam continues, “I wouldn’t worry about him, kay? Gabriel’s always got his own things to do. I’m sure you shouldn’t put your life on hold for him.”

_You sure are right about that, Sammy. Things to do like avoiding me. Didn’t even try to deny it either. I should have known better than to think last night was some sort of reunion. It was probably just a goodbye without saying the actual word, exactly what the dick would end up doing. The sad thing is that I would have put my life on hold for him though, cause I love him and nothing he does will change that._

“Come on, get up,” Sam starts moving about the room, gathering his laptop and some books. “We’ve got a case.”

_As if I can deal with a case right now._

“I mean it, Dean. It’ll do ya some good, getting out of here and I think I’m gonna need some help on this one.”

Sam says it for his own benefit and Dean does really appreciate that, to know his brother still has his back and tries his best to help him even though it’s always been and still should be the other way around. Dean sighs though because Sam always gets his way, that will never change but he guesses it could be a helluva lot worse. He supposes he just wishes Gabriel had said goodbye, not leave him in the dark waiting for anything to happen just like this. He finally moves when he realizes his limbs have unfrozen and his purpose for the moment is clear. They’ve got a case, just like the old times before he knew angels existed and he was pulled from the depths of hell by one in particular. 

That’s right, Dean hasn’t seen Cas in a while, he should probably call him. Soon anyway. 

When Dean walks out the door not even fifteen minutes later, he can’t remember the time at all. Not even getting out of bed. He shrugs it off though as he follows Sam towards uncertainty and pretty much inevitable torture. Any moment without Gabriel there to show his support is torture. 

 

_(Then)_

 

Gabriel can’t bear to waste anymore time. 

There are still so many things he wishes to show Dean. Sunsets from the most glorious parts of the world, sharing hot chocolate and candy canes on Christmas morning on what he believes to be the finest beach the earth has to offer, giving Dean the remaining pieces of his heart by doing these things. 

There’s no time left for talk or regrets, guilt or wishing and wanting like they’ve done for way too long. 

From here on out, he’s acting. He’s giving Dean the best time of his life, like Sam tried to do before he started really obsessing on saving his brother, realizing time was going by too fast for his liking and wouldn’t it for anybody? Hell, one year is nothing if not depressing, and Gabriel’s never been depressed before, except when he left heaven for good and even then it was nowhere near as terrible as this. 

Dean’s an idiot, a selfish hero only intent on protecting his brother, damn his life and his soul. An idiot that the archangel loves though, more and more every day and it’s stronger than the hate he has for him, for what he did, surprisingly. He still wants to throttle Dean though, slam him into a brick wall so hard that he’ll become disoriented and cry and break down, admitting that he doesn’t want to die and he wants someone to save him and apologize for being such an infuriating idiot. 

It’s what Sam wants too, no secret there, which means they should probably stage something together. Even if Sam does hate his angelic guts, leaving out the angelic part because that bonehead still can’t figure out who he really is. 

Gabriel decided to go for the simpler option at first, keeping his candy lovin’ ass away from the one thing he wants most. 

So he does, day after day, month after month. Until he realizes there’s no time left to do anything but make it up to Dean so much so that he forgets that he’s even going down into hell. 

Except Gabriel won’t be able to forget it, that he’s going to hell, that he would gladly take his place if he could. 

Each time he kisses Dean he feels like the human is taking another step further away from him. Gabriel reaches but to no avail, he screams out in the darkness and hellfire that all-consumes Dean and begs for him not to be taken away. Each time he lays his fingers on him it’s like the human’s skin is melting under his touch until there’s nothing left but the worthless sheets underneath him and a scent painfully abandoned that reeks of Dean. But he keeps on touching and kissing and obsessing because soon there will be nothing left to kiss. 

Soon there will be nothing left. Period. 

 

_(Now)_

 

“You remember when we first met?”

Dean grins, “How could I forget?”

Every once in a while the archangel takes him back to that place, when he can sense that Dean is losing his grip on reality and forcing himself to stay steady when everything seems to be crashing down around him. Gabriel always has and always will ground him, and when they go back to the place where they fell in love, had wild and passionate sex, a brief time where he unveiled everything to the human, told him who he was and what he had always wanted out of life, well, Dean would never forget it. 

And more than anything, he always dreamed of going back to it. 

But going back to a place didn’t mean the emotions would be the same. It didn’t mislead Dean into believing that nothing had changed since then. Too much had changed. 

The extent of what he felt for Gabriel through the months had waxed and waned, faded into a deep abyss only to be consummated again. Who knew what the future could hold though, no one was privy to that information. Just because he faced hell and came out relatively intact doesn’t mean he’s off the hook. 

Though Dean isn’t stupid. Humans and archangels don’t mix, it was a deadly chance to take, a risk Gabriel told him once he didn’t want to take but then days later went back on his word. Dean was left to his whims, as always, and sometimes he liked it that way so he wouldn’t have to think, think about what would inevitably happen to either one or the both of them. Dean wouldn’t live forever, Gabriel would lose interest after so many years and move on. 

It was almost written in stone... And it was sickening. 

When Sam goes on his midnight run, Gabriel saunters into the room and takes hold of Dean before he knows what hit him. He hates this, growing dizzier by the second and all too set to throw up by the time it’s over, the archangel whisking him away to foreign and exotic places, claiming Dean needs to chill out for a few hours and clear his mind. 

The more they keep on doing it though, the more Dean doesn’t want to do it anymore. 

But this place, this place that they hardly ever go to anymore screams out his name, and when Gabriel offers soundlessly he takes the opportunity and grasps it harshly. 

_How could I forget?_

Gabriel leads Dean to the bed and it seems like that night all over again except for one major difference; Dean feels older and weaker and more terrified than he ever has in his life. And seeing Gabriel, ageless and still as perfect like the time when they first met under unfortunate yet exciting circumstances, only makes him feel worse. 

Like death warmed over just so Gabriel can have his illustrious midnight snack. 

He follows Gabriel though, because he needs time away from all the chaos and Sam’s shit with Ruby mucking up his life. Gabriel is merely a means to take his troubles away, to relieve stress momentarily even though it’s not just that at all. 

Dean loves him. Loves him even though it’s killing him. 

The archangel doesn’t even hold up for a minute before his fingers are exploring Dean’s face, cupping his chin and undressing him certainly. Gabriel only ever comes here for one reason: to rekindle what they have, what they found that first night they spent together, Gabriel in a lustful state of mind and Dean in a rage-driven one. When he came back to Sam, he remembers missing Gabriel already, never wanting to let him go. But Gabriel hadn’t really gone, he had always stuck around, lingered in the background so Dean could grab him and take him when he wanted. 

It had been enough back then. Right now, Dean wasn’t so sure. 

Dean doesn’t help like he usually does, he lies there, a dead weight, Gabriel fingers pressing down hard into his naked flesh, tongue flicking out to claim his mouth in heated ecstasy. Dean stays still, doesn’t move an inch, won’t allow his eyes to betray what he’s really feeling inside. He’s lucky Gabriel isn’t paying so much attention today. 

When the human doesn’t kiss back, Gabriel slides his mouth away and stares at Dean curiously. “What’s wrong?” Even though Dean never responds without incessant pinching or tickling, it’s still worth a shot. Dean doesn’t answer, looks away. “What’s wrong?” Gabriel repeats, stronger now. 

“Nothing,” Dean mumbles. And then he makes the mistake, “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Since when did you ever want to get this over with?” He pulls himself off of Dean and collapses hard beside him, muscles tense and features agitated and suddenly Dean feels guilty. “Some witch curse you into hating sex or something?”

“Yeah,” Dean responds half-heartedly. “Something like that.”

Gabriel looks at him for another minute, “Or is it just me?” He pulls away from Dean further, “If you don’t want me, Deano,” he crawls off the bed and starts to yank his clothes back on impatiently, “all you had to do was say so.” And the human suddenly hates him, loathes him for even thinking that. 

“Fuck you, Gabe.”

He walks towards the bathroom, shaking his head in what seems to be disappointment. He doesn’t look back, like he doesn’t care and Dean hates him even more for that. “Sorry Deano. Apparently, you don’t want to.”

And then the door shuts and Dean thinks of finding a way out when he knows full well there isn’t one. If anything, Gabriel always remembers to cover his bases. 

 

_(Then)_

 

Dean’s on Gabriel faster than the archangel can respond, grinding kisses into his lips before his tongue starts poking and prodding. Gabriel shoves him to the bed and Dean stumbles, falls into its nice, soft depths, his hands anxiously ripping away Gabriel’s clothes while the archangel grabs a handful of the human’s hair in desperation. 

Dean moans, wrapping himself around Gabriel and not caring if he’ll ever be able to separate himself. Ever since Gabriel gave him that look he’s wanted this more than he’s ever wanted anything else. And then when Dean took the final blow, the stake through the heart trick, he knew it was the perfect time. 

“How come you didn’t die?” He pants, groaning when Gabriel fingernails scrape down his back. _He’s playing rough._

Gabriel smiles before starting to suck on Dean’s neck, and it’s the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. One that makes him want (to claim) Gabriel and never give him up. “Cause I’m not a trickster, kiddo.”

Dean’s too lost in the moment to keep pressing, Gabriel’s so beautifully close to him now that he just wants to scream out in happiness and craving. 

“I’m an archangel.”

“What...?” Gabriel kisses harder, seeming to want to meld his own mouth with the human’s, stick his tongue deep down his throat and make Dean swallow it whole. _Jesus,_ Dean thinks, but he wants the same things, he only thought them a moment before Gabriel took action. 

He doesn’t know what this place is but he feels safe, underneath an _archangel?_ Subject to his own version of passionate love and undeniable need. 

_I like your style, I really do._

_I love you. I think I do, even though I have no idea what I’m saying or doing right now. For all I know you could..._

“Love you too, Deano. For all you know I could love you too.”

 

When the moment ends, Dean’s as surprised to know that Gabriel can be gentle just as easily as he can be rough, and this is only three seconds later. They lay there, both of them in bliss, Gabriel curling protectively around Dean, taking it upon himself to be the bigger spoon even though it’s clear to see he’s shorter in height than the human is. 

Dean doesn’t want the moment to end either, he’s just shocked and at the same time pleased to find out that Gabriel, who he just killed not even two hours before, loves to snuggle around his so-called possession. Even though the trickster full well knows that Dean would never be anyone’s possession. 

“Beautiful,” Gabriel whispers musically, resting his own head against Dean’s. Dean sinks further back into his warm, solid chest and answers, “What?”

“You, you’re beautiful.”

“Uh...” Dean blinks his eyes open. It’s awkward but kinda nice too, being called beautiful. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re mine, Deano. All mine.” He plants a kiss in Dean’s hair.

For once, Dean doesn’t want to disagree. 

 

“You going out?”

Dean turns around, faces a hesitant Gabriel standing about three feet from him. He doesn’t understand why he’d want to be so far away. Dean turns around again, looks outside the window to make sure Sam isn’t watching or waiting impatiently and then turns back towards the trickster, pleased to see he hasn’t disappeared. 

“Yeah,” he moves closer cause the distance is too great for him. “I’ll be back at dusk at the latest, the hunt isn’t too far out. 

Gabriel nods, giving Dean a peck on the cheek. “Just be careful, wouldn’t want to lose my most prized possession so soon.”

“You won’t,” Dean kisses back. He repeats, “You won’t.” That’s when Dean knows that Gabriel loves him, a one night fling that just so happened to turn into want and adoration.  
Suddenly, he’s the happiest he could ever be. 

 

_(Now)_

 

Gabriel doesn’t even come back to the bedroom to inform Dean that he’s taking him back. One minute, Dean’s sitting up in bed, arms crossed in frustration, completely unsure of what he should be doing and hating himself for not doing anything but laying there, feeling guilty but not guilty enough to apologize. The next, the lavish suite with no doors or windows starts to blur heavily and the human is being yanked from one reality to another, although the previous reality could be argued as a fantasy. 

The archangel didn’t come back with him, of that he’s pretty sure of after he checks the bathroom, of course, even if it is a different one. He sighs, Sam should be back from the library soon, even if Gabriel had stopped time which he usually does. 

It’s good though, it gives Dean time to think, about Gabriel and about what the fuck just happened and why one second he feels guilty and the absolute next he feels like a victim. He chose this though, chose Gabriel and look where it got him. 

It got him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. 

“You and Gabriel argue again?” Sam asks when he gets back forty-five minutes later. It feels like he’s said it a thousand times now. Like it’s a daily occurring thing that Dean hasn’t even noticed till now. During that entire forty-five minutes he had debated about whether to call Gabriel, though whether or not he would come would remain a mystery until he actually vacated his mind and spoke aloud. 

Gabriel always came when he called, sometimes even in his head, unless he was busy. Or claimed to be busy. 

Overall, Dean decided not to bother. Somethings need to be left alone to simmer for a while so they don’t blow up before they’ve had the chance to properly cook. In other words, at the moment Dean is better off without Gabriel and vice versa. 

Sam doesn’t even try to act sympathetic, which he hasn’t been at all lately and if he isn’t on anything else why should he be on this? He hates Gabriel, it’s no great freaking secret that he tries to hide from his brother. He wants him gone even more than Dean wants Ruby gone. Gabriel’s a corrupting influence in his baby brother’s eyes, even though Sam’s the one spending so much time with a damn demon that he might as well be shacking up with her. 

Dean looks up at Sam, who’s sifting through a small stack of papers he brought back with him. 

“Yeah,” he admits. “But not anymore.”


	4. Sorry Doesn't Mean a Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for various episodes of Season 3, mainly just before the episode ‘In My Time of Dying’. It’s so much fun to write Bela, I can connect with her in some ways and maybe that’s why I couldn’t resist involving this entire chapter, not to mention the longest one, around her.  
> Song Featured: The Zombies’ ‘She’s Not There’

_~But it’s too late to say you’re sorry  
How would I know  
Why should I care~_

_(Then)_

 

Bela finishes wrapping up her latest deal quite well. She walked out with more money than expected, which means she can treat herself, not like she doesn’t after every well-worked out deal. Bela does deserve it after all, she works hard, too hard to get what she wants and maybe that’s why she gets so pissed off and vengeance needy when someone, like those damn Winchester brothers, make it their mission to screw up her carefully thought out plans. 

When Dean shows up though, she forgets all about the stress he so easily gave her multiple times, the little interruptions she’s been forced to play along with. When Dean shows up she remembers how she feels towards him before she thinks of anything else.

_How hard he makes my heart beat. How fast and loud and how it sends my blood into a frenzied, beautiful rush._

Then, for a brief moment, she remembers that both him and her are going straight down to hell, not collecting $200, which wouldn’t be nearly enough anyway, and therefore not passing go. She’s still afraid to tell him what her future holds, that they’ll see each other there before too long, chained up and tortured, their naked forms displayed for all to see. 

Bela shivers, lets Dean come to her this time as she makes her way out of the gate of the wonderful mansion she was just allowed to step inside. She definitely received some great remodeling tips for her own meticulously crafted home. The rain’s currently coming down a little, it’s been threatening to all day and the woman pulls her very stylish yet very thin trench coat tighter around her, her eyes fixated on Dean Winchester and strangely wondering for a second where Sam even though he always comes alone. 

If Sam knew, she’s not quite sure what would happen. He would be pissed for sure, and it would take too long to make him understand, if he ever even would anyway. She doesn’t worry about it, she likes to be alone with Dean, not obsessed with his brother’s null opinions but instead the new artifacts she must hunt down and sell to the highest bidder in the next month. Dean hates this, Bela knows this but she does not care. This is who she is, just like the Winchester is a hunter and is constantly thrown into danger, always staring into the very face of death. She must do what she is best at doing; hunting down new treasures, making outrageous amounts of money and surviving until the deal is closed. 

Sharing this inevitable fate with Dean helps in a lot of unexpected ways. It clears her head for one thing, makes her fully aware that she is not alone in any of this, that she wasn’t the only one who made a deal that she regrets too much some days. 

“Hey!”

Dean jogs over to her as the rain starts to pour down harder. He wraps a steady arm around her shoulders and guides him toward his car. Bela shakes her head, “No way. We are not driving around in a bloody thunderstorm in that hunk of junk. You’re lucky it’s still standing considering how old it is.”

She swears that Dean growls for a minute. It’s nothing new though, she’s insulted his so called ‘baby’ plenty of times before and has never gotten away with it so easily, has never not seen Dean’s face fall and his eyebrows scrunch together adorably in rage. 

Bela does love to get him angry. 

“Forget I said anything,” she says quickly and smiles. “Let’s just take my car.”

“How bout you follow me to the nearest motel so then we’re both happy.”

It isn't a question, it’s a demand but Bela Talbot doesn’t back down so easily. She’s just gotten Dean for the night, and she doesn’t intend to let him go anytime soon. “Oh, Dean. Dean Dean Dean, I don’t do motels. Those flea-infested rooms that offer no sense of style or comfort whatsoever, there is no appeal and honestly no one with any sense would dare step into one.” 

The Winchester doesn’t even look remotely happy. To be expected. 

What Dean has yet to learn, and also doesn’t have much time to learn in truth, is that she has standards. Yes, they may be high standards but any man should be willing to indulge her. At least, any man she has an interest in getting involved with. Dean’s different for her, she doesn’t care about what she doesn’t necessarily prefer about him, she has no need to attempt to change him or criticize him. All she wants is time with him, the last couple months of her life with him.

If that’s too much to ask for, Bela supposes she really is fucked. 

She watches Dean grit his teeth and keep himself under control, it usually amuses her but now she just wants it to be over. Tonight’s not the night for arguments, Bela hasn’t seen Dean in weeks and it’s weighing on her; the separation, the fact that without him she is completely alone. No one to talk to unless she wants to find some decent bar in a five star hotel, no one to dump her trivial troubles on but herself and her cat. And let’s just say, her cat isn’t offering her advice anytime soon. 

“I’m not leaving her, Bela.”

The car, as he frequently reminds her, is a female, which is ridiculous yet something Bela must force herself to put up with if she wishes to sit next to him, share an uncomfortable silence with him. 

“Fine. But in three hours we’re back here and no arguments.”

Dean sighs loudly, opens the passenger side door for her and then closes it gently shut when she’s safely inside, shaking in her thin clothes. 

“Here,” he hands her his leather jacket and she breathes in the scent of whiskey and gunpowder when he’s not looking. She smiles, wonders how she’ll manage to drag a lower standards Dean into a respectable hotel. She finds she really doesn’t mind though, Bela Talbot likes him and better that that, Dean Winchester likes her apparently more than he lets on. 

For a teensy moment, she brims inside with a hope threatening to overflow from her tearing heart and wholly consume her. 

 

He should’ve suspected this. Sam coming at him the moment he walks through the door and demanding where he went, claiming after minutes of heated argument that he in fact knows and dangles this in front of Dean, pressing him to spill and honestly with all the stress that’s been piling up in his head lately; the hunts and the never ending spectacle Sam makes of trying to find ways to save him, claiming he will find a way that doesn’t involve him getting killed...

Impossible. _Impossible._

If anybody should know it would be Dean. 

Anyway, with all this shit going on he’s lucky he hasn’t become catatonic yet or something. Now that would really freak Sam out, stop him in his tracks instantly, shut his mouth and make him forget what the whole conversation, which isn’t really a conversation at all, was about. Then he’ll feel really sorry, really really fucking sorry. 

Dean just stands there though, slipping his jacket off and waiting for Sam to finish, for Sam to stop cursing Bela, who she is and what she’s done and what she could still do. Dean doesn’t care, he just came back from a kick-ass few hours with her and nothing his brother could ever say would change how happy he was in those few hours.

Now, it’s all gone, the relief and happiness and now hell is brimming in his head, calling him, taunting him, beckoning him to step forward and fall through the carpeting into its depths. He swallows and wonders how he could be such a freaking idiot to think Sam wouldn’t find out, to assume that Sam wouldn’t be mad or wouldn’t care. Dean wants his life, that’s all he wants, just some fucking peace and quiet and he never gets it when Sam’s around. 

“Just stop! Alright?” He finally cuts in. “Fuck, Sam. Lay off a guy, will ya? What I do is none of your...”

“Business? That what you were gonna say, Dean? It’s Bela! Open your goddamn eyes so you can see the mess you’re getting yourself into! Are you that desperate, am I not enough, are you...?”

Dean whirls around and is just about to head back out the door when he decides that it’s not a good option. Leaving Sam right now will only make him more pissed off, he just needs to drill it into his head somehow that what he and Bela have isn’t a mistake, she’s not manipulating him and he’s not using her. Just because his brother cut off his words when he was making a move to leave though, doesn’t mean he’s finished yet. Far from it, Dean suspects. 

“Can we stop arguing, just for a day? I wanna lay down and sleep, Sam. Let me while I at least can.” The last few words come off a bit stronger than he had intended, but it’s too late to take them back now, Dean doesn’t even feel like taking a shower as he crawls into bed and curls up on his side. He falls asleep to the sound of Bela laughing, saying his name over and over when she’s playful or wanting or just bored. He wants her, he wants to curl himself around her just like he did an hour before and sink his worries into her skin, watch them dissipate and nullify and let his happiness be unleashed. 

Sam doesn’t understand what it feels like. What it feels like to be dying and not want to die alone. Bela does. 

 

“Hey look, Dean. I...”

“Forget it,” he takes a bite of his morning bagel and swallows hard, forgetting to chew most of it because he’s distracted. “What’re we hunting this time?”

Sam looks at Dean for another minute, worriedly and hesitantly, then backs up emotionally and starts sifting through the papers on the table. “It’s a Largos. They feed on young children mainly, three to five years of age, but in a few cases they were shown to eat full grown women and men. So I guess they’re not too picky. They tend not to hang out in packs, so we should only be dealing with one.” He glances away from the papers and looks back up at Dean, “Shouldn’t be too hard, only takes a knife dipped in lamb’s blood to sever its head. We’ll head out tomorrow... or tonight, if you’re...”

“I’m ready,” Dean says hurriedly. “I’m always ready.”

This is it. His last hunts. You’re damn right he’s got his head in the game. 

 

Dean doesn’t see Bela directly after his last hunt like he usually does. It’s not that he very suddenly gives a damn about what Sam thinks, about what he no doubt knows, he just doesn’t feel like it and that’s that as far as he’s concerned. He’s beat, not just that but dead tired after he’s dragged himself out of the shower, blood no longer marring his weathered skin. 

The second he steps out of the bathroom Sam reels back and turns around quickly, pretending that he wasn’t just hovering at the door, his hand poised at the ready to knock or maybe even break it down. Dean wouldn’t put it past him, with the way he’s been looking at him lately, with sympathy and like he’s about to keel over at any possible moment, despite his so very specific expiration date. This is what he has to live with for the rest of his ‘cut drastically short’ life. It sucks, but it’s worth it knowing Sam is safe. Knowing Sam will live when he no longer draws breath. 

Dean ignores Sam as he heads over to the bed, slipping a clean shirt on and then crashing down in its lumpy depths, closing his eyes, willing himself away from this place, away from Sam’s endless concern and suppressed questions. 

“You need me to stitch that up for you?” His little brother’s voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife. Dean shivers before shoving his face into the nearest pillow. 

“Nah,” he turns away from Sam. “Got it all taken care of.” _I’m going to die soon with no fucking way out, so yeah, I’ve got it all taken care of._

“You sure?” Sam presses and Dean wants to growl at him to leave him the hell alone. To just go to sleep already so Dean can have some peace and not have to force himself not to crumble over so many expectations. It’s not that he blames his brother, he only wants to help yet it’s just too much. If he wasn’t so damn exhausted and wanting to sleep for ten years he would be at Bela’s incredibly nicer hotel right now, happy and careless and just damn peachy. He’s not though, he’s stuck with Sam, who’s about to be brother-less pretty fucking soon. 

So he doesn’t growl, he doesn’t throw a pillow at Sam and he most certainly doesn’t walk out the door. “Yeah, Sam. M’ sure.”

And that’s that. No more questions, no more hovering, just a silence even thicker than before, one that makes Dean swallow and fight harder to just end the day already. 

And he does. 

 

Bela’s surprisingly not disappointed when he drops by. She doesn’t bitch and complain when he uses an extra key Bela gave to him to open the door and walk in on a lavishly decorated room. He shakes his head and shuts the door behind him, Bela never fails to impress him. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” her voice drifts in from the bathroom and Dean can’t help but smile. Her tone is not pissed or accusatory, he can tell she’s merely happy to see him and the Winchester loves that. Loves that he doesn’t have to answer Bela on why he hasn’t stopped by for two weeks now. 

“Make yourself at home.” She still doesn’t show herself, but Dean shrugs off his coat and hangs it over the nearest chair anyway, grabbing a beer out of the mini-fridge and twisting the cap off, downing it fast. He doesn’t waste time by looking around the room he already pretty much knows, that doesn’t matter a flying fuck to him. He came here for Bela and Bela alone, there’s no one else who can make him forget about an impending hell and Sam’s prolonged glances and the ever pressing weight of what exactly will happen to him, of what he has done to Sam and what exactly he’s leaving him with. Nothing but his baby and shitty memories. Sam knows it, hell, he breathes it. 

Dean saunters into the bathroom, surprised to see her frozen in front of the mirror, barely registering her new occupant. 

“You okay?”

Bela always seems fine but he knows better, knows better because he knows himself, what it’s like to look into a mirror and hate what you see, to have doubts and regrets that you can’t even count, to somehow never want to move again, just lock into place and drift away, let the world fade away while you pretend you don’t give a damn about it. 

But Bela isn’t one to be this quiet or this unmoving, it scares him a little until her gaze flickers to him for a split second. “Fine,” she smiles. “I’m better than expected actually. Was waiting for you, had a feeling you would come tonight.”

Dean doesn’t respond, he’s already caught his own reflection in the mirror and finds it hard to look away when he stares at Bela’s, wrapping an arm around her on instinct. “It’s almost time.” He squeezes her arm.

Bela Talbot nearly says yes, that they’re both running out of time, that it’s almost time for the _two_ of them to meet their doom. That would have been a mistake, Dean would have no doubt caught it and demanded answers before storming out the door in a ‘no way hidden’ rage. He would have a right to too. Then Bela would be truly alone. 

No, she doesn’t think she’ll ever tell him. It would cause more harm than good. More than anything she can’t be alone. She refuses to accept it now, while she’s endured it for most of her life. 

Regretted it. 

Finding Dean is the greatest thing she’s ever done, the most perfect thing she could have thrown herself at. Nothing about what they had could be a mistake. 

“So, this is it then?” She smiles, leaning on Dean to let him know she regrets nothing. She wants to tell him that there’s still so much she wants, to give to him, to do with him before they both get torn away from each other. Bela wants to convince him to run away with her, just leave Sam behind even though she knows Dean would never do it. What reason would he have? She dreams of everything they could still make for themselves every single fucking night and this gives her reason to breathe even if the images steal her breath away. It seems so close and so real and incredibly touchable but it’s not, none of it is but this is all they have left; motel rooms and sneaking around and quiet nights shared together, their fingers entwined as they cling to each other not only physically. 

Bela isn’t ashamed because she loves Dean. 

She goes first. Dean doesn’t know, Dean will never know. When it’s her time she will call him and tell him goodbye, and when he demands further explanation she will hang up. He will finally know when he stares down into her lifeless eyes. This is the way it should be. This is the way it will be. She feels no shame for her part. 

“This is what?” They both stare at each other in the mirror, wondering if they can take hold of this permanence and clutch it to their chests, refusing to break their holds. The image is perfect, even better than a picture, and nothing is more painful than accepting it won’t last. 

“My last month with you.”

_My last month to look at myself in the mirror, to be able to memorize every wrinkle and flaw. That I’ll get to brush my hair and dress up and feel good about myself._

She can imagining Dean scoffing if she were to actually say those words, though still he would struggle to make her feel better. She’s positive of this, maybe say ‘who cares about that shit?’. And she would say to him that she does, she cares, she can’t stop caring about him, about any of these little things which may seem little at first glance but really aren’t. 

“Aw, Bela.” He sounds a little pissed that she brought it up, she doesn’t blame him. “I don’t know why you’re giving a rat’s ass about it in the first place. People like us don’t live long, we just take the time we have and put it to good use is all. You shouldn’t be thinking of this, you need to relax, let yourself not care for just this once. Forget it and come here.”

Bela breathes, wishing she didn’t and barely whispers, “I do.” 

She turns away from the mirror and slips past Dean, lies down on the lone king bed in the room and stares up at the yellowed, cracked ceiling. Dean doesn’t follow her, for all she knows he’s still staring into that damn mirror, wishing the world away just like she knows she’ll never be able to. 

_It’s okay, Dean. To care, to want, to miss every single little thing that you barely think about now._

_It’s okay to let it all hurt inside and outside instead of letting hell burn everything that’s good about you away._

_It’s okay... just to dream._

 

It’s a replay when he gets back to the room he shares with his brother. Sam's on his ass again, accusing him of being with Bela and trying to tell him just how much of a wrong thing he’s doing. Dean really doesn’t fucking care anymore. 

Sam lives. Bela lives. He dies. Simple as that, his perfect plan, something to give him peace when the hell hounds come for him and tear him away from the both of them. 

In a fucked up way, Dean wishes Bela and Sam would just get along so they could be together after he leaves, comfort each other and live together, hunt together, just be everything the other needs them to be. He laughs a bitter laugh, in a perfect world maybe it would happen. But nothing good happens to the Winchesters without one of them sacrificing what they can’t afford to give. What they hate to give to just anyone. 

“I know you’ve been with her, Dean.”

“Yeah, so what? Anything else you wanna say, Sammy?”

“Why? She’s not on our side. She’s a goddamn thief is what she is...”

Dean throws him a punch. No one, _no one_ has the right to call Bela that. He doesn’t care if she’s a thief or not, Dean cares about her and for his brother to go prancing around and trying to blame Dean for something when he barely has anytime left to _live_ is not something he can just stand by and take. 

The punch stills Sam. His eyes drift up to Dean’s, noticing his face is awash with frustration and terror. This wasn’t supposed to happen tonight, he wasn't supposed to push. 

“Don’t call her that. She’s not, okay?” Dean’s lip quivers a little, “She’s a good person. She cares about me...”

Sam shakes his head and it breaks Dean because Sam’s supposed to know him best. His brother should be telling him it’s okay to let down his guard every once in a while and just give in to something he so clearly wants. Sam wants Dean all to himself though, “She doesn’t. She’s using you. I don’t know how, but she is.”

_Why, Sam? Why can’t you just let this go?_

“I’m going to bed. Unless you need me to do some research?” Yeah, like a minuscule thing such as that is at the forefront of their worries. Dean still feels bad though, even if the exhaustion does actually outweigh the guilt. 

Sam shakes his head again, though this time it’s not in disappointment and instead as an answer to his question. He wipes away the blood with the back of his hand and heads to the bathroom, turning around just in time to see his brother crawl into bed and close his eyes. Sam sniffs discreetly, locks the door behind him and looks at himself in the mirror for a few minutes. It’s hard not to think of Dean, not to hate him knowing how much he’s going to miss him in little less than a month’s time. It’s hard not to want to strangle Dean and make a deal and see how Dean likes it. 

_I actually miss Gabriel. At least I pretty much knew what to expect with him around._

 

In the end, Dean stays with Sam and ditches Bela. Does he feel bad about it? Yeah, he does, and he would feel even worse if Bela hadn’t plotted against him, the both of them, like she always does, like he wrongfully assumed she was done with. He takes one look at Bela and couldn’t hate her more after he finally founds out what she’s really like; conceited, cunning and a real fucking bitch. Exactly what Sam knew ages ago. 

He doesn’t really blame her, after all, you can’t change who you are. Except that he does truly blame her, because he feels like she never even cared enough in the first place to try, to try to be just that little bit better for him. At least Sam tries, at least Sam attempted to watch his back when this whole thing was going down. 

And that’s what makes the guilt rise within him, knowing that Sam knew it all along, warned him and did Dean listen? Nope. He just brushed Sam off like his opinion never meant anything when Dean knows it always matters, Sammy is the most important person in his life. It’ll always stay that way. 

Hell won’t be able to erase that. 

He’s not surprised when tears fail to fall from her eyes, when she turns her back on him and tells him it was only business. The only thing he can say to her is ‘bullshit’ and it couldn’t be more true. He had imagined he meant something to Bela and now he realizes he doesn’t. Bela doesn’t give a shit about him. It breaks him inside, he’s not going to deny it to himself. Though he sure as hell won’t let Bela Talbot see it for even a split second, and he’s not gonna let Sam say ‘I told you so’ either.

When he walks out the door, away from the woman forever, he puts her out of his mind. He doesn’t mention her to Sam because he can’t face his mistake, he doesn't have it in him. But he does have it in him to say that he actually loved her, still does sometimes. That’s something he can’t mistake, only something he can regret and hope it doesn’t bite him in the ass more than it has already. The time he shared with her had been unbreakable, perhaps the happiest he’d ever been in his life. And while he’s glad he finally knows the truth on how Bela really feels about him, he would never take back the time they shared. 

It’s her loss and Sam’s gain. Sam was always the one on his side anyway. The one who would never lie to him or betray him. He could always count on Sam. 

So in the end, Bela is at the back of his mind instead of at the forefront and Sam has taken Bela’s place. Not romance-wise, but you get the picture. 

Dean gets that in barely a few weeks, he’s gone from this world forever, leaving no more than a faint imprint. In the end, he takes the memory of her from his mind. After all, she’s not there. 

 

She can hear them, out in the woods surrounding her motel. She can hear them coming for her.

Bela slams the phone down into its receiver and shoves it away from her. She can’t bear to look at it anymore, to realize that it was Dean Winchester who was just on the other end, laughing in her face at her death that’s only minutes away, showing just how little he cares about her, how he won’t remember her. 

Like he could ever forget _her._

Her hand flies up to her mouth and she starts biting her fingers frantically. It’s a habit she had when she was younger, one she managed to break due to the fact she didn’t want to give her emotions away easily. But now, now there’s no one to watch, to see her ripped away from this world as if she had never been here. A mere body of her left behind, mangled skin and gnawed on bones and a soul that’s nowhere to be found. She’s put this very day back to the extremely dark corners of her mind for years because how could anyone think of this moment? _Being murdered by unnatural things and it’s all due to you, you made the deal and don’t you forget it. Don’t play dumb and don’t you fucking beg for your life. You wanted this; a better life and you got it._

_Now it’s time to pay up._

She shivers and locks the door, knowing it won’t do her much good but she might as well act like the human she is; naive and stupid and regretful, while she can. While she still has her humanity left. 

Bela breathes hard, doesn’t even bother to focus on tampering down her urge to peel not only the nail but the skin of her fingers off. Her hands are shaking so hard now, they scrape against her dry lips and teeth. She drops down to the floor on a whim and wraps her arms around her legs, hugging herself tightly, comforting herself in her last moments. She wastes no time in wondering whether or not it’ll hurt, it will bloody hurt, unbearable agony perhaps and there’s nothing she can do about it. 

_So get over it._

The wait, it’s just the wait that’s killing her, making her take herself tightly, all her emotions and wrapping herself up into a rigid ball, where reality can’t touch her, a place the hell hounds can never reach because it means she is knowingly killing herself. She has to do this but she opens her eyes anyway, releases herself and stands up. Bela doesn’t want to cower on the floor, away from the door like a little girl. Like the little girl she was when she made this deal. 

She steels herself, looks out the window and goosebumps swish over every inch of skin when she hears them again. Bela doesn’t shiver though, not this time. 

The clock ticks and announces the hour, the scratching starts at the door. Bela focuses on not losing it, on standing her ground, readying herself and accepting when they take her, why they are taking her. That it was her choice all along, her own, no one else’s. Maybe Dean was right about her all along, maybe she is a worthless pile of crap, a bitch that simply can’t care about anyone else’s problems but her own. 

She did love him though, even if he doesn’t believe it and she knows he probably doesn’t. She did, he’ll always be the one to have her heart, to hopefully keep it kindled within his chest. A sign of past love absent denial. She smiles as tears start flowing down her chilled face. 

She’s ready. She’s not ready. Who cares if she’s ready?

Bela glances up just in time to see the door thrown open by nothing. Their growls threaten to shatter her head and freeze her heart. She turns away despite their invisibility but doesn’t run, there’s nowhere to go after all. Dean abandoned her, Sam abandoned her, Lilith did her a much appreciated favor long ago and this is Bela’s thanks, merely acceptance at what she has done, at what she has asked for. 

They drag her down and she hits the ground hard, it knocks the breath out of her and she fights just to flip over and lie on her back, so she can stare at the stained ceiling instead of the floor, her face not having to be brutally smashed against the wood flooring. She wills herself to close her eyes but she can’t, she wants her last vision to be this bloody stupid ceiling, not darkness. They claw at her, tear her apart, she doesn’t really feel it too much, she blocks it out and retreats. It’s over. It was all for nothing. Just to know that there are good men out there, just to be able to have one of them wrap his arms around her just for a few nights was enough after all. It comforts her now as she falls back with Dean, focusing on him as he holds her with his eyes, with his smile, with the long lost hope that maybe he’ll find a way out of this for the both of them.  
But her memories betray her, and she lets loose a high-pitched agonizing scream as the hell hounds tear her entire world away.


	5. It's No Secret You're Jaded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during ‘On the Head of a Pin’ (now) & earlier episodes of Season 3 (then). This is actually the third chapter I wrote despite the fact that it’s really the fifth chapter. Yes, I am known for skipping around a lot. Hope you enjoy this chapter. Also, before I forget, sorry about the notes on the last chapter. I’m so stupid, I put ‘In My Time of Dying’ instead of ‘Time Is On My Side’, so I apologize if there was any confusion.  
> Song Featured: Taproot’s ‘Mine’

_~I’m in control of everything  
It’s taking time but that’s okay  
I can bring you to my side~_

_(Then)_

 

Dean, like the last few weeks, is sleeping fitfully in a way that means his subconscious isn’t becoming a submissive thing under hell’s watchful, maliciously intended, dark as death gaze. Alistair’s influence had been profound, still remains profound but the appearance and intentions of the angels had a far more intense effect on the eldest Winchester, especially now. When both sides are fighting him for him, tugging his already tortured limbs with equal pressure as well as need on both sides, Castiel has a sinking feeling which side will win, that when it comes to the dreams and hell all hope will be lost when it comes to Dean, who might not be strong enough to hold them all off. 

Luckily, Castiel can always remember that he’ll never be alone. Sam not being there will forever remain inane, a convoluted thought never to be welcomed. 

Seeing Dean like this now though, curled in a somewhat fetal position in the bed, very much not alone and not just because he is there, gives him that hope back just a little bit.

It’s true that the archangel lifts Dean’s spirits higher than anyone else could try to. It’s also true that Castiel feels the slightest ounce of jealousy whenever he’s near his charge, but not enough to protest or think of ways to send him away. Gabriel will hopefully become a permanence in Dean’s life, a forever vivid figure that the Winchester boy so much needs now that the demon Ruby has stepped so fully into the picture. 

And that is why Castiel, in the darkened room that is peaceful in its silence and beautiful as it allows the full moon to break through the window and illuminate the hunter’s slack features, smiles and knows he won’t need to worry about Dean anymore for the moment. He is in good hands. 

Though he still cannot help remaining here, watching over his charge like he’s become so accustomed to on lonely nights such as this, hewn with doubts for what the future will hold for the two Winchester boys even though it’s written in stone. They will fight, they will say yes, an unlikely surrender for the hunters, or they will fall and all Castiel will be able to do is stand over their bodies and wonder if he will be able to feel grief, because he is no more than a mere angel and Dean should not have the effect on him he has now.

Dean does everything to him, angers him and causes the angel to adore him not even a minute later. He may leave disgusted and all in the mood to smite Dean right out of the ground he stands on so proudly, but he always comes back when Dean calls or when he feels it’s necessary, whichever comes first. Never has a human so complicated his very existence. 

Never has a human considered him a friend like Dean is starting to now. This makes things very _very_ agonizing for Castiel, and also very wonderful in a sense he can’t afford to ponder. 

When he sees this very sight before him, it causes him to wonder whether his predefined notion of saying yes could cause happiness in Dean after all. Dean isn’t the surrendering type but if his brother is placed in the line of fire he will no doubt say yes. It’s so hard to read Dean though sometimes, to tell if his heart craves a peace that may only come from giving in to Michael. Right now, it seems like there could be no other happiness other than being exactly where he is. 

When Dean is happy, he is happy. But the angel also has another job to do other than watching over his charge, a job that is becoming all the more harder every day. 

He glances at Gabriel once or twice, curled up tightly next to the human, an arm wrapped around him and the other cushioning his own head. This is peace, for all three of them even if Castiel isn’t directly in the scene, and the angel can feel it as strongly as the instinct that tugs at him to leave the archangel and hunter in pleasant, love-filled solitude.  
One archangel’s destiny to take over Dean, consume everything good and beautiful about him, the other to consume his brother whole and fight him. The image of Dean succumbing terrifies him, of Dean fighting his brother even if it isn't really him. It terrifies him that Dean’s decisions will no longer be his own, his hazel eyes no longer holding back his thoughts and emotions because they will be _Michael’s._ Yet through all of this, Gabriel remains here, exactly where he will lose it all and rekindle his lost connection with heaven and his brothers through hatred and the intention to protect Dean. 

It’s quite a futile attempt, but Castiel can see the honor of it and wishes he could have that very same undeniable instinct to fight against heaven and protect him too. Maybe someday, now though he’ll just wait to see what comes next. He’s as curious as anyone else is. 

The thought keeps on disturbing him to depart and so he does, plans to come back later. Nearby, his arm pulling Dean against him tighter and eyes morphing into a soft gold at how beautiful the human looks, Gabriel smiles upon fully realizing that he’s not the only one who cares deeply for Dean. Just the only one who fully realizes it. 

That doesn’t mean he has to eradicate his jaded nature though. He’ll always keep a close eye on Castiel, but an even closer eye on Dean himself. 

 

Gabriel, unlike most mornings, is there when he wakes up, both physically and emotionally, and Dean focuses on his completely real smile, nothing about it faked or suppressing tight lips or worried. 

Gabe is back with him. 

Hopefully for good this time. 

“Was just thinking when you would wake up, and if I should shift that time frame just a little.”

Dean leans over and kisses him cause fuck, he’s actually here when he wants him to be, not when it’s a good time for him. More and more Dean’s been trying to make him see this and more and more it’s working its own charms, much to Dean’s benefit. 

“What time izzit?” Dean stretches and lets Gabriel roll on top of him, kissing him and causing such filthy, wanting moans to rise up in him and find life in this new unspoken promise. A smile grows on his face when he realizes that Gabriel could never resist him even if he wanted to, Dean’s addictive and that’s just how the archangel likes it. It’s enough to make him give up candy, well, at least for a little while anyway. 

The archangel wants to be here more and the hunter will do anything to make sure it stays that way. 

“Around eight.”

He pushes himself up a little to move closer to Gabriel so that it’s near suffocating, wants it to be that way forever cause he wants _all_ of Gabriel, not just the pieces of him he’s willing to share but the parts of him that he hides so far away inside himself. Dean understands what it feels like, knows what it’s like to lose so much and sacrifice so much and he does _know_ Gabriel but _not enough._ Not enough to make it feel like a real relationship just yet. This is what he’s been trying to get across to Sam, that Ruby will never know him, never respect him or fight to the death for him. If Gabriel weren’t feeling what Dean’s feeling he wouldn’t stay as often as he does, he would just get his fix and leave but it isn’t like that. Dean can’t seem to get this through Sam’s damned thick skull that Ruby is making even thicker with her influence. 

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean smiles and tugs the archangel further down on him, wincing in pain as the movement jars, okay, maybe more like tears his stitches that Sam had hastily done the night before. Gabriel stares down at the bandage, dark red seeping through more by the second although his gaze doesn’t linger there for long, soon he’s staring out the window as if he sees something. 

And then Sam barges through the door and freezes in place at the first thing he sees. 

“Oh my...”

His eyes are wide, unblinking, the look of shock adorning his features giving off a sense of complete surprise, as if them being together was the last thing he expected, rather than realization at the fact that he decided to stick around through the night and into the morning. Sam closes the still open door with his foot, not daring to look back once as if he’s afraid he’ll miss something that will be earth shattering. 

Dean is stock still underneath Gabriel. It’s not that his brother hasn’t walked in before while he was in a situation like this, it’s being with the _(his)_ archangel that causes everything to change and become a helluva lot more serious. What he has with Gabe is fragile, more importantly, his brother doesn’t know the extent of what he feels for Gabriel, even more so of what an almighty archangel, who just also happens to be a candy obsessed trickster, feels towards his big brother. Dean can’t blame him because not even he can believe it sometimes, an archangel and a human and it’s kinda a freaking sad combination cause how could they ever work out? 

He just doesn’t want Sam to ever say it. Dean doesn’t want it to hit him in the face like that. 

The Winchester can scarcely imagine the shiver of panic going through Sam’s spine, spreading throughout his body and multiplying quickly in his heart at the sight of them. Even Dean knows it’s weird cause it used to be just the two of them, no overcrowded rooms or unwelcome visitors. Except Gabriel isn’t overcrowding him and neither is he not welcome. Except in Sam’s eyes, that is. 

Sam wants to growl at Gabriel, demand he get away from his brother and not even think about coming back. Half the time Dean’s in that detached state he so hates because Gabriel isn’t around, hasn’t answered his calls, etc. etc. etc. Guess what Sam has to put up with the other half of the time? Shit like this; whispers in the dark, a kiss every time they can afford to grab one before either Gabriel or Dean has to take off. Sam coming in the room to find the archangel sprawled out on the couch like he’s actually meant to be there, forcing him to retreat to the bathroom and lock the door behind him because the last thing he wants to do is diss on Dean’s archangel. 

And this is what Dean must feel like when Ruby’s around, which is another reason why he miraculously manages to shut his mouth whenever Gabriel pops up. 

He doesn’t know what stops him from growling and shoving him out the door, instead closing the door to secure all three of them inside. 

It’s the archangel’s chuckle that breaks the silence, and spurs him to slide off of Dean and settle by his side. It’s easy going, light and amused and it breaks Sam out of his sudden trance. He walks to the table, sets down breakfast which he is not intending to share with Gabriel, and waits to see whether his brother will say something, try to explain why Gabriel’s been hanging around a great deal more lately. 

It’s another minute until the unwanted guest, at least for him anyway, clears his throat before vacating the bed. Dean’s still watching Sam but for the life of him Sam can’t look back. 

“I should probably leave you two alone. Let you talk.”

And with that he’s gone, leaving the two Winchester boys breathless and surging with confusion, the want for justification and the terror of abrupt, indescribable isolation. 

“Sam, I...”

“Forget it, Dean.” His eyes have already noticed how much he’s needed, and he gathers the items he needs to redress Dean’s wound from where he was snagged by a wendigo last night. Sam sits down on the bed and waits, rather than telling him to scoot over. 

_Damn archangel assaulted my brother, tore his stitches and I couldn’t even say a fucking word._

His brother looks down in defeat, let’s Sam’s fingers pry the bloody bandage off his chest and probe the wound gently. 

“Sam...”

“Yeah, I know, Dean,” he spits out, frustrated and looking for someone other than himself and his brother to blame. Oh yeah... Gabriel. The dick archangel who once killed his brother over and over and now expects to be welcomed into the family like it wasn’t torture or something. _If I could throttle him I would, if I could take him away from Dean forever, I would._ “You can explain everything,” he cleans the wound again with antiseptic, stitches and places another bandage on, maybe a little too hard which would explain Dean’s half-hidden wince. “And I want you to, just maybe when I’m feeling a little less pissed and you a little less lost in the moment.”

“He’s not...” Dean starts and Sam wonders why he even tries, to deny it, to not admit to Sam that he can’t push Gabriel away because there’s something he needs that Sam could never provide him. Not to mention just a couple days before Dean pretty much spit out that he disgusted him. 

“Dean, don’t.” His voice is firm though still wavering in the slightest. He hates that Dean can have this effect on him sometimes, more like all the time, send all his barriers crashing towards the blood soaked ground. 

It’s because he loves him too damn much, knows that the words spoken in the heat of the moment aren’t really truth at all. 

Even though they’ve both changed in the last few months beyond any calculable measure, changed in ways that could only ever cause harm and destruction to befall them, Sam still feels that struggling, straining connection.

“All done,” Sam hands him a clean shirt, one that’s far better than what happened to the one he was wearing last night, now at the bottom of a trashcan rotting away, never to be worn again. He tries to help his arms get through the sleeves until Dean bats his hands away and takes forever to do it himself. 

_Oh no, here comes the ‘I’m always friggin’ peachy’ Dean Winchester that he so knows and loves._

Sam sighs softly, knows he won’t try to push tonight because already Dean is pushing away from him and he _hates_ that, when Dean doesn’t feel like he can reveal even the tiniest thing for fear that Sam will rip him apart at the seams. How come Gabriel’s the only one who can open him up anymore and Sam’s just standing on the sidelines like an idiot, feeling useless and more like a discarded friend than a brother?

“So,” Dean pushes himself out of bed, once more tucking that vulnerability away into a deep dark corner of himself. A hole that Sam can rarely dig open. As if it’s such a terrible thing that Sam would never want to see, let alone deal with. “What’d Ruby have to say about helping us on the case?”

“She’s not up for it.”

“Course she isn’t, and that’s that.”

Sam almost says it until he notices the way Dean’s looking at him. It’s probably the same way Sam looked at Dean upon entering the room at the exact wrong time, the entirely wrong person in his bed. It’s probably even worse than that. 

“You know what, Dean?” He shakes his head in disgust, “This isn’t some sort of manipulation tactic. Ruby happens to mean as much to me as you try to make me believe Gabriel means to you. And as far as I’m concerned, I mean the same to her.”

“Sure ya do, Sam. That’s precisely why you sneak off to do her bidding every night and think you’re so great at leaving me out of the loop. Let me tell you something, Ruby offering you her blood is not for you, it’s her sick little game and nothing more. If you can’t see that, Sammy, then you’re blind.”

“Fuck you, Dean. You’re the one who wanted to be left in the dark in the first place. You’re the one who left! Don’t go around blaming it on me.”

“And of course you don’t take me seriously. It’s not like we’re brothers or anything, Sam...”

Sam literally can’t take anymore, he’s more than aware that this has been boiling between the both of them for what seems like ages now. Gabriel hanging around only makes it worse, because as much as Dean believes that Ruby is tainting him, it’s really Gabriel playing around with his brother like he’s some sort of toy he can make come and go as he wills.

“At least Ruby saved my ass when I thought I would die from grief when you left me, completely defenseless and scared and so fucking pissed at you, Dean. At how you could be so _selfish._ At least she was there when I needed someone, every step of the way without question. She helped me become a better hunter, a better person, taught me how to fight back, forget about you when I thought I’d die from thinking about you too much. You ever ask Gabriel about all the times he manipulated us, killed you? Cause I think you should. I think...”

Dean reels back in a split second, punches his brother square in the face. Sam takes a step back, wipes the blood dripping from his mouth and grins in victory, “That’s right, Dean. Beat up on your own brother when things get too tough. Don’t blame Gabriel or anyone else that’s really not on your side. That never will be.”

_You know, Sam. I don’t think you ever were on my side._

Sam waits _(wants)_ to hear it, that he’s a monster and Dean can barely look at him but Dean doesn’t say it. He holds his own, eyes glistening with what could be tears or rage but just stands there, before grabbing his coat off a nearby chair and heading out the door, slamming it shut behind him. Sam jumps a little, his hands shaking from the sudden burst of adrenaline that is now leaving his system, from all the times he wanted to punch Dean too, beat him into a bloody pulp just to see if Gabriel would come by and prove he cares about him or not. He wants to leave his brother at fault after all of this, scream after him to just ask Gabriel how much he really cares, how deep his love really is. He doesn’t do any of those things though because he hurt Dean, and Dean has gone hell knows where and more than anything, his rage is running away to be replaced by worry and panic and shock and disappointment. 

_I don’t get it, Dean. Sometimes you look at me and it’s like I’m not even your brother anymore._

_But shit, what have I done now?_

 

_(Now)_

 

He doesn’t know what he means when he says ‘not anymore’, not to mention he considers himself the stupidest person on the planet to tell Sam this, considering he’s been praying it would happen straight from the get go. Now he’s telling his brother exactly what he wants to hear, worse than that, Dean doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, can’t decipher the things that he thinks he wants in his head from the things he imagines he doesn’t want. 

He loves Gabriel but Gabriel, being who he is, makes it all too difficult at times to keep himself under control. Some days he just wants to leave the archangel, so badly and hope that he never regrets it. He knows he will though, he’ll do nothing sooner or later but regret it. If he stays though, if he remains a puppet under Gabriel’s nimble fingers, a human he can play with the emotions of, come and go whenever he damn well feels like it, then he’s got another thing coming. Dean’s sick of the bullshit, if he can’t have what he wants, what he needs, then screw Gabriel and everything about him. It’s as simple as that. 

Except it’s really fucking not. Sam is grinning like he just won a million bucks in the lottery or something, giving Dean his undivided attention and it’s only breaking him down further into nothing. 

“You’re serious?”

Dean shrugs uneasily, “I’d wait for him to come here, to convince me otherwise. But I don’t think he will.”

His baby brother grins wider, moves a little closer to Dean as if offering his support, which the eldest finds he really doesn’t want at this point. In fact, he wants to rip Sam’s smile right off his face and throw it out the window, throttle him until he grows a completely different mindset, till he feels sorry for Dean for falling out of it with Gabriel. Just to show some ounce of fucking sympathy and have it be real, not fake and not temporary. 

But he doesn’t, he doesn’t do any of those things because he needs to move on, leave Gabriel, forget everything he thought they had. 

 

It isn’t so easy. Two weeks later and he’s outside in the pouring rain, thunder echoing around him and lightning striking down as near as across the street. He doesn’t pay mind to any of these things though as he screams, as long suppressed words and curses barrel their way out of his mouth with a vengeance. Before too long he notices his knees starting to falter, his legs no longer able to support his body and he falls, heavy body and throbbing head following as he crumbles down to the blacktop of the motel parking lot.

He doesn’t beg because Dean Winchester doesn’t beg or cry, though he really can’t blame himself if a few tears do run down his cheeks, though he can just as easily blame them on the rain drenching him. His thin clothes weigh heavily on his form as he calls out for Gabriel, expecting an answer to drop out of the sky, for him to show up even though Gabriel hates the rain, let alone thunderstorms. 

_He should come, just to let me go. Tell me already that it’s over. Just admit you don’t want me anymore you fucking bastard._

_Just say the words._

He can see Sam through the small window of their room, completely oblivious to the scene he’s putting on outside. Fingers furiously type away at his laptop, lost in his research or whatever the hell else, but most likely he’s still inwardly grinning at the fact that Gabriel is gone. _Really fucking gone._

The human swallows thickly, head falling down against his chest, which has a lump growing inside it and getting heavier, more unbearable by the second. How can he adjust, accept, move on? His hazel eyes grow hazy from the droplets falling onto his eyelashes constantly, fingers and toes numb from the cold and how long he’s actually been out here. _Is the rain an excuse, or does he just not care?_ He can’t get up, everything he is, everything that he’s made up of is filled with lead; immovable. He feels immensely broken, like there’s so many pieces spilling out onto the pavement and he can’t pick them up or stop their descent fast enough. He tries to breathe, but it gets caught in his mutilated throat. 

Worse than all this? Gabriel doesn’t come. Not like the human expected him to anyway. 

 

_(Then)_

 

When Dean gets far enough away from the motel he does the only thing he thinks he can do: call Cas. 

“Cas! I could really use your help right now!”

About a minute and still no sign of him. Dean isn’t a patient person and he damn well isn’t now, not when he has a mission and it needs to get done fast before he gets the bright idea to back out, or Sam figures out what Dean’s intentions are for his little demonic girlfriend. 

“Cas!” He jumps what feels like five feet in the air when he feels a tap on his shoulder. Dean turns around and his heart bursts in surprise upon realizing that the angel is no more than an inch or two away from him. 

He sighs, pissed that he didn’t hear the sound of feathers to mark Castiel’s arrival because he hates freaking surprises. “I thought we talked about this, Cas. The whole personal space thing?” Scratch that, they’ve done more than just talk about it. Dean’s mentioned it every single time Cas has shown up, since the first time he dared to say such things to an angel without the fear of getting his ass sent straight back to hell. Half the time he just thinks that the angel enjoys to get on his nerves, now that he’s beginning to understand exactly what that phrase means. 

The angel merely ignores him, staring at him intently though Dean can see there’s plenty of other things on his plate right now. Not only that but he seems to be at the bottom of all these apparent pressing matters. “You called?”

Well, Dean shrugs internally, at least he came. 

“Yeah,” the hunter licks his lips, wondering how he should put what he’s about to say. “I need you to do something for me.”

He expects Castiel to say ‘haven’t I done enough for you already?’, or something a little less human and more angelic, whatever the hell that means. Cas only stares at him unwaveringly though, one of his quite annoying yet remarkable traits, right after cocking his head to the side and always acting so dense when Dean knows, knows that he must be a helluva lot smarter than he looks. He just needs to be taught a little bit more about humans, that’s all. It’s something Dean can easily fix.

The blank, emotionless stare is still there upon answering, “Kill Ruby?”

“No,” is Dean Winchester’s first reaction. _Wait a minute, how the hell does he know that? He better not be going into my head again, that son of a bitch._ “Yes,” he admits, trying to not let anger and confusion and surprise swim across his face, though there’s not a doubt in his mind that Castiel can see it. “How did you...?”

“You’ve been screaming it to me in your dreams.”

Dean looks away a little in surprise and embarrassment that he wishes more than anything was feigned, “Oh.” There’s a long pause before Dean soldiers on because he’s come this far and he’s not gonna quit now, now that it’s so clear Cas knows. He’s gonna have a hard time from this moment on trying to keep anything from him if he’s determined to see it. “So... will you?”

Castiel’s voice is deeper and rougher than usual when he answers, not to mention firm, “No.” He leaves no room for discussion, probably because he knows Dean is great at getting his way, which is why he fucking hates angels in the first place, all their stupid orders and twisted manipulations, molding people into what they want them to be and blah blah blah. The hunter honestly doesn’t know why he didn’t end up asking Gabe in the first place.

“And Gabriel won’t do it either.”

Immediately, anger boils up within Dean’s chest, rushes furiously up to his head and out to his arms, leaving him wanting to grab the supposed righteous angel by the lapels of that damn trench coat and slam him into the nearest wall, hopefully shaking some sense into him. Castiel isn’t phased for a millisecond by this rage though, it’s all too familiar coming from Dean Winchester. 

_Doesn’t he know how much damage that bitch is doing to my brother? Her unlimited power over him?_

“Why not?” Dean growls, pissed that Castiel would even dare to assume that he knows Gabriel better than he does. 

“Because it won’t make a difference, Dean. If it would then I would have been instructed to do so.”

The Winchester just stares at him, “And if they told you to jump off a bridge, would you do that?”

Cas cocks his head to the side, is almost about to say that he doesn’t understand that reference until he makes his mind up; to leave upon knowing that doing it will piss Dean off to no end. 

And it does. 

“Goddammit, Cas! Thanks for the fucking conversation!” 

Now what is he going to do?

“Guess I’ll have to kill her myself then.” Dean could care less if Castiel the angel can hear him or not because nothing will stop him. Not when what needs to be done is all too clear and only will remain to be till the day he dies.


End file.
